


Tumblr Made Me Do It

by whimsicalwombat



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Keen2 is the 10th prompt, Keenler is prompts 15 and 28, Lizvabi appears in the 9th prompt, Multi, Some are kind of crack-y, There's laser tag in prompt 11, other ships/relationships/characters/fandoms will be added if/when I get prompts for them, pairings will be in the chapter/prompt title so just scroll through the list for specifics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-29 18:18:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 40,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11446386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicalwombat/pseuds/whimsicalwombat
Summary: Starting with the two 'Cuddling Prompts' I was asked to do for Saram on Tumblr, here's where I'll put my requested prompt fic bits and pieces from now on. Individual prompt details/links for each one will be in the chapter notes.Currently, prompt chapters 1-8, 11-14, 16-27, & 29-34 are Saram or Saram friendship, while prompt chapter 9 is Lizvabi, prompt chapter 10 is Keen2, and prompt chapters 15 & 28 are Keenler. Requests per tumblr lists are welcome, though maybe don't send me ten at once? :)





	1. Cuddling Prompt 19 (While someone's sick) -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_ ,](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/162736768761/cuddling-prompts-19-saram) cuddling prompts list [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/162708655185/cuddling-prompts).
> 
> (written with a non timeline specific, established Saram)

‘Samar, I’m fine,’ Aram sighed, for what felt like the umpteenth time that day. His stomach was turning somersaults, his head was pounding, and his cheeks felt like they were on fire. It had started with a seemingly, and perfectly innocent headache the day before, that he had assumed was simply a case of having stared at his office computer for an hour or so too long –it happened sometimes, especially when they worked a particularly tough case- but by the next day, when Aram felt like he was about to pass out at his desk, he was pretty sure that innocent headache was actually a case of the awful stomach bug that had been going around the office over the last week.    
  
Not that he was about to admit it, however. If his team could run around in the field, fighting bad guys and being shot at, he could damn well hold out at his desk for another ninety minutes or so, just to see the case wrapped up with the rest of them.  
  
They were so close, they all knew it.   
  
‘Uh huh,’ Samar murmured, eyeing the dark rings under his eyes and the paleness in his cheeks. Standing there in the gap that was the thoroughfare between their desks, she was torn between concern that he was about to hit his head on his monitor, and frustration at his stubbornness. ‘You should go home,’ she added gently. She reached across the desk, resting her fingers through his.    
‘But-’ Aram immediately tried to protest; this wasn’t the first time that day that Samar had suggested her go home, nor was she the only person to have suggested it. Even Cooper had tried to order him to go home –which Aram countered on the technicality that the order wasn’t actually an order, because it had been cut off halfway through by Ressler and Liz walking back in from the elevator with a suspect bound for the interrogation room. He was _desperate_ to stay with his team.  
’-Please?’ Samar pleaded, speaking over Aram before he could finish his sentence. She gently squeezed his fingers, and Aram wearily bowed his head; it didn’t matter how determined he was, even he knew it was unlikely he would last until it was time for everyone else to go home… Not to mention, they only had interrogations and final statements left for the day. There was little left for him to do. Finally, he glanced up again, shooting her a small, grateful smile. It took Samar all of two steps to wind her way around to the opposite side of the desk, pull his backpack out from under his feet and hand it to him with a small shake of her head, and a gentle kiss to the top of his.    
  
/*/*/*/*  
  
By the time Samar made her way to his apartment, it was a couple of hours later, and she found Aram sprawled miserably across his bed, half asleep. His eyes flickered open, staring back at her where she stood in the doorway, watching him.    
‘Did you break into my apartment?’ He mumbled, through a sleepy smile.    
‘Is it really breaking in if you gave me a key five months ago?’ Samar gently teased back. ‘I brought dinner,’ she added, gentler this time, as she held up a paper bag with an all too familiar logo; 'that homemade soup from the little corner shop down the street that you like. I figured if I didn’t have time to make you something myself, that would be the next best thing.’  
'You didn’t have to do that,’ Aram continued to mumble into his pillow, but his sleepy smile –only barely visible past the covers pulled up to his chin- widened all the same.  
'I know,’ Samar murmured back, 'but I wanted to.’ She turned in the doorway, ready to duck into the kitchen and serve the soup into bowls. 'I’ll be back in a minute.’  
  
Aram watched her go, eyes crinkling in contentment. As amazing as he knew that soup was, there was one thing he wanted even more; simply to wrap his arms around Samar and hold her close. He had always been affectionate, and he had always been tactile; brushing a gentle hand against hers in passing, or tucking those forever annoying and loose strands of hair behind her ear, were gestures that came so naturally to him now that they had been together for so long, that half the time Aram didn’t even register that he was doing it. Just her presence there, in his apartment with him now, was already a comfort, as was the soup he could he turning in the familiar buzz of the microwave… He wasn’t going to ask her for any more than that –he was even more worried about her catching the stomach bug from him, than he was wanting to be close to her- but that didn’t stop his half asleep, boggled brain from miserably wishing.    
  
He was almost asleep again when Samar returned, and she stood in the doorway for a moment, shaking her head as she watched him doze. Aram looked exhausted, and utterly dejected. She knew what he wanted, and exactly why he hadn’t asked –after all, it wasn’t exactly difficult. With a soft smile, she set the bowl of soup on the nightstand, then crawled into the bed beside him, curling onto her side as close to him as she could get, and resting her head on his chest. A deep breath of contentment escaped her as she sank into him; contagious germs be damned. Aram could worry all he liked about sharing them, but Samar didn’t care. All she wanted was for him to feel comfortable while he waited out his immune system’s victory and frankly, they had been close enough the previous night –before Aram’s symptoms really began to show- that if she was going to catch the bug from him, Samar was certain that she had received a more than healthy enough dose of the germs from him already. Surely, a cuddle now would make little difference.  
  
In an instant, she felt Aram’s arm wrap around her waist and settle comfortably there. Another second later, and she heard the quiet, but no less sharp intake of breath that undoubtedly went with his wince in pain at the sudden movement. Aram curled himself around her, burying his face in her hair and all too tired to care about his aching muscles for even a second.    
'I love you,’ he sleepily murmured. The words were muffled by his speaking straight into her hair, but Samar knew what he meant.    
'I love you too,’ she whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, 'now, go to sleep.’  
  
A soft noise erupted from Aram’s throat, that Samar took to mean agreement to the plan.  
  
Seconds later again, she felt his breathing slow and even out with slumber, but still she stayed there. The soft smile on her face widened a little more, as she nuzzled into his shoulder and allowed her own eyes to fall closed just as Aram’s had.    
  
Not that she was anywhere near as likely to admit it as Aram was, Samar was _quite_ comfortable right there, curled into him as well.


	2. Cuddling Prompt 14 (In Public) -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_ ,](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/162741763026/cuddling-prompts-14) cuddling prompts list [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/162708655185/cuddling-prompts).
> 
> (written with a non timeline specific, established early stage Saram)

As affectionate as she was in the privacy and comfort at home, Samar was always that little more guarded in public. Between the intense training that ensured she was always on alert and aware of her surroundings even when she was off duty, and years of forcing herself to keep her emotions in check in the field rather than instantly breaking down at the sight of the horrors she had seen, Samar felt a certain wariness when it came to open displays of not-at-all-subtle emotion in public –and the most affectionate of gestures made the very top of that list. It didn’t help that in the years that had passed, she had developed that persona where everyone expected her to be one of the strongest, the most serious, and even in the eyes of some, the most ruthless. Now, if ever she appeared anything other than that, it threw the people who didn’t know her as well, off guard and occasionally even caused them to stare.

In short, she was so used to saving such gestures for more private moments now, that displaying affection in a more public scene was going to make her uncomfortable until she grew used to it again.

Thankfully, Aram understood, and he hated anything that made her feel uncomfortable. He knew that if he could prompt the tiniest of grins and crinkled, adoring eyes from her in public, it meant just as much as an arm wrapped around a waist or kiss on the cheek at either of their apartments, and succeeding in the quest to earn himself that look made him practically bounce on the balls of his feet in delight. In contrast to Samar though, Aram not only wore his heart proudly on his sleeve and was naturally inclined towards all affectionate gestures, but he also tended to be particularly tactile with them. Hugs for him, while occasionally unexpected or off putting to others, were almost instinctive where Aram was concerned when it came to expressing concern, relief, joy, or anything else along those lines.  

Thankfully, Samar understood that too, just as Aram understood her discomfort with the same, and he had to force himself to learn the new habit of exercising a little more self-restraint with such gestures, just as Samar was trying to grow used to them. In the early days of their relationship, it had been a delicate dance of finding somewhere comfortable to meet half way, and of both them trying to break years of sheer force of habit.  

Now, a couple of months on, they were far more finely attuned to that balance.  

They strolled down the street after a rare evening where their most recent case had wrapped up early enough for them to actually go somewhere nice for dinner. There was a soft smile on Samar’s face, as she gazed contently up at the clear sky, filled with twinkling stars. At the less crowded end of the street, heading towards the park, Aram’s fingertips reached discreetly for hers, giving them a gentle squeeze. So long as he didn’t make a huge fuss about it, that was one touch of affection he could get away with in public now, as was tucking her hair behind her ear. Other gestures depended on how relaxed –or not- Samar was at the time. For the moment though, as they continued to amble along, Aram glanced sideways just for the split second it took to note the flicker of recognition and tiny grin on Samar’s face as her fingers squeezed his in return. He said nothing, choosing instead to simply grin in contentment all of his own as they kept walking.  

The crowds in the park were even smaller, though still more than enough to be considered ‘in public’. The view of the sky was even clearer there, and Aram was all too happy for Samar to tug on his hand, leading him towards a bench on a viewing platform with an open view of the skyline. He settled back onto the bench beside her, pausing just long enough to tuck those loose strands of hair behind her ear, before staring out at the sky once more.  

‘I’ve always loved looking at the stars,’ Samar said softly. ‘My father always loved to watch them with my mother, and tell her stories about the constellations.’ A more contemplative smile crossed her face, as she thought back to that time; 'I was only little then, but I always loved to listen to the stories too.’  
'They’re beautiful,’ Aram murmured back, nodding his earnest agreement. There was a pause, a silence where Samar didn’t respond, and Aram tore his gaze from the sky and glanced back at her curiously. Her eyes were focused on him again now, her lip twitching with an amused smirk. 'What?’ He asked warily. The smirk on Samar’s face only widened then.  
'I’m waiting for you to make one of those cliched comments that you love so much,’ she mused, shooting him a knowing grin, 'you know, the ones that make me roll my eyes but you swear I love them really.’ Aram paused, narrowing his eyes in mock suspicion at just how well she knew what he was thinking; in his mind, he had been toying with such a cliché -namely, the kind that would have followed his observation of the stars by saying that Samar was even more beautiful- but had ultimately decided against it.    
'You _do_ love them,’ he scoffed back –albeit only gently so, and he squeezed her hand again as he spoke; 'I know you do.’ Samar rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, but struggled to hold back the small smile that was tugging at her lips. Aram wasn’t entirely wrong; she did find it amusing, but she was never going to admit it. It was all too much fun to tease him back instead. Aram shifted his gaze back to the stars just as Samar did, his voice growing softer as he spoke again; 'I just wasn’t sure now was the right moment for it.’ As a general rule, any time Samar let him in a little more, or mentioned anything of her childhood –no matter how small a detail it was- he didn’t make light of it. Whenever Samar spoke about her past, it was a more earnest moment, and Aram took that seriously.    
'Thank you,’ she said quietly. Aram simply squeezed her hand again, raising a curious eyebrow.    
'For what?’ He asked softly in response. For a moment, Samar didn’t meet his eye. She stared at those stars a second longer, before finally shooting him a pointed look, then shifting her gaze straight back to the sky again. Aram knew exactly what the thank you was for, not that he really thought it was necessary.  

He watched her for a moment, breaking into a thoughtful smile as he took note of the way she was relaxed back into the bench, all the tension was gone from her shoulders, and she leaned sideways, resting not quite all of her weight against him, but certainly more so than she normally did in public. With his smile twisting into something a little more cautious, Aram pressed a quick, casual kiss to her cheek, then turned his gaze back to the sky once more. He waited for a second, bracing for a look of annoyance, or for the hand resting against his to pull away again uncomfortably… But neither happened.

If anything, with the lack of fuss, Samar leaned just a little further into his side again.  

Just as casually, Aram took a breath and decided to take another gentle push at the boundaries. He pulled his hand from hers, and wrapped his arm around her back instead, with his hand coming to rest comfortably around the side of her waist. It took a moment, where Samar seemed to be quietly debating with herself how to respond… Until she tilted her head sideways, resting it against his shoulder, gaze still fixed firmly on the sky. Aram’s stomach flipped overjoyed somersaults, and he pulled her in closer, burying his face in her hair. He closed his eyes, unable to stop himself from grinning gladly at the sound of Samar letting out a deep sigh of contentment.

And there they sat, holding each other close, and staring up at the twinkling sky. No words needed to be exchanged; both were deep in their own thoughts, and acutely aware of each other’s presence all at the same time.

The presence of everyone else around them however, felt practically non-existent. They were comfortable right there, in their own little world, and that was all that mattered.


	3. Right to the Good Parts Prompt 9 -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/162810898681/right-to-the-good-part-prompt-9-of-course), "Right to the good parts" prompts list [here](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/162783181852/right-to-the-good-parts-prompt-list).
> 
> Prompt 9: "We’re hiding from the authorities and it’s very close quarters in here, I can feel your body against mine." (Written with non timeline specific, established Saram, and a slight twist on the prompt. I figure they are the authorities, so they’re running from bad guys in the Post Office instead. It also took a slightly more angsty and teasing turn than I expected, but anyway….)

‘Quick,’ Samar hissed, ‘get in here.’ Without even thinking twice, Aram did exactly as instructed. He would have thought that by now, after all the criminals who had broken into the Post Office building in the attempt to get to Reddington, he would be used to such a scenario… But no, once again there seemed to be a small militia locking down the building and hunting everyone within, and once again Aram could feel his heart practically trying to thump right out of his chest.  

He had frozen when those alarms first sounded, moving only when he felt the sharp tug on his jacket sleeve of Samar pulling him out of the open war room, down one of the corridors, and into the small copy room.

Well, what was _once_ a copy room. Now, it seemed more than anything to be a dumping ground for all kinds of things, from battered case file boxes piled nearly ceiling high, to excess stationery that didn’t fit in the smaller resources cupboard. In short, despite it being a whole copy room, there was barely room to breathe, let alone move. They stood jammed in the corner, barely a foot from the door. Aram stood there backed into that corner, trying to catch his breath. Samar stood just in front with her back to him, her weapon drawn and intently watching the door. She was listening, her spare hand on the volume dial of the radio on her hip so as to keep in contact with the rest of the team without revealing their hiding place, to the sounds of the invading gunmen bustling around just outside the door. All the team had scattered separately or in pairs, trying to fight back and call in the cavalry, rather than allowing themselves to be captured, and Samar was waiting to make her move.  

In the meantime however, as Aram fought to slow his breathing back to a more normal rate, the terrified adrenaline pumping through his veins only allowed him to focus on one thing.

 _Just_ how close Samar was standing in front of him.

There was no other way to describe the situation, other than note that they were stuck so close to each other, she was pressed up against him. He could feel every breath, and every beat of her heart.

Aram cursed himself internally; now was not the time to be thinking about _that,_ regardless of the fact that they had been dating for months, and she had quite happily been pressed against him many, _many_ times already. But his brain wasn’t working, boggled by the fear, the adrenaline, and the desperate search for honest to goodness _anything_ else to distract himself from thinking about the militia outside with more automatic weapons than members.. And there his girlfriend was, pressed against him, in what was easily the most awkward spot possible for the moment.  

It didn’t help that when the invading gunmen locked down the building, they also shut down the heating, making the cement and steel building even _colder_ than the frozen winter air outside… And Samar was a warm body.

Aram squirmed on the spot, trying to shuffle _just_ enough to be in a slightly less awkward position. Samar glanced back over her shoulder at the movement, furrowing her brow in confusion.  
'What are you doing?’ She whispered, 'stay still, or they’ll hear you.’ Aram winced, though thankfully that at least meant she had no idea why he was squirming.  
'Can one of us just move,’ Aram hurriedly began to murmur, 'say, just a half step sideways or something?’ Samar’s brow furrowed even more, glancing down, then back and forth across the non-existent space between them. Her eyes suddenly widened, and she bit her lip, struggling to hold back the smirk as she realised exactly what the dilemma was. She clamped her radio hand over her mouth, fighting back a chuckle at his discomfort.  
'Well,’ she quietly spoke again, 'I can’t manage sideways, but I think the corridor’s clear now, which means I can move forwards.’ A breath caught in Aram’s throat, and he instinctively reached for her hand, wanting to stop her from running back out into the dangerous chaos, but Samar simply squeezed his hand, then pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. 'Stay here where it’s safe,’ she murmured, 'I’ll be fine… And once the rest of us have taken these guys down, I’m sure you and I will have the evening free to celebrate.’ She took one more glance at him as she reached for the door, waggling her eyebrows at him for a split second before taking a breath to steel herself. Aram shook his head, torn between being amused at the way she could never resist the opportunity to tease him, amazed by her boundless confidence, and terrified by what she was about to do. He opened his mouth to protest, to try once more to convince her to stay in the safety of the copy room with him, but before Aram could even speak… Samar was gone.

The door closed softly behind her, leaving Aram in that tiny space, alone.

He broke into a soft smile, forcing himself to think positive… And willing her to be safe.  


	4. Right to the Good Parts Prompt 4 -Saram friendship/wanting more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/162815323181/prompt-4-7-pleeeaaase-d), "Right to the good parts" prompts list [here](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/162783181852/right-to-the-good-parts-prompt-list).
> 
> Prompt 4: "We slept in the same bed for space reasons but now we’re just waking up and there’s something about your bleary eyes and mussed hair." (Non specific timeline, with Saram friendship/wanting more)

It was Aram who woke up first to the sunlight streaming in through the crack in the curtains, and the sound of cars in the street outside growing more frequent. He rolled over, cracking one eye open and staring across the pillow at Samar still sound asleep beside him.

He bit his lip, not quite sure what to do. 

Being the first to wake up in another person’s home, let alone bedroom, was awkward enough. What was worse was that he was only staying over because someone had let slip to Samar that his own apartment was being fumigated, and so she had offered for him to stay at her place for a couple of nights. Aram had been more than happy - _prepared,_ even- to sleep on her couch. Problem was, Samar had been prepared to do exactly the same… And after much debate the night before about guests and hosts, and who exactly was going to take the couch versus who was going to take the bed, she had waggled her eyebrows and said _fine,_ they were adults _and_ friends, so they would _share_ the bed. 

Despite a hundred and one anxious thoughts swirling through his head about her privacy, about wanting to be a gentleman, and about every other variation thereof, Aram had relented. He knew all too well –once Samar had that mischievous gleam in her eye, there was no arguing with her. 

It was all good and well –Aram was pleased to see on waking up, that despite the tendency of warm bodies to gravitate towards one another, both of them had kept their hands to themselves in their sleep instead of accidentally spooning- but now that he was awake, and Samar continued to doze on, Aram was at a loss. What was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to keep his curiosities about her apartment to himself and not go wandering, or should he try to make breakfast as a gesture of appreciation for her letting him stay?

He stared across the pillows, contemplating that dilemma as he watched the friend who he desperately wished could be more than that, sleep so soundly beside him. Aram’s eyes crinkled with affection for her; for all Samar’s strength, intelligence, bravery and everything that saw her more often than not chasing bad guys and kicking down doors, now while sleeping she simply looked peaceful. Easily more peaceful, in fact, than Aram had ever seen her. There was a tiny, sleepy smile on her face –clearly, she wasn’t having one of those nightmares Aram knew she sometimes had- and her hair, as wild as it normally was, now seemed even more so. Mussed by the pillow and the rolling back and forth in her sleep, those long, dark curls splayed all over the place, from all over the pillow to all around her face. 

More time than expected, passed as he watched her. Samar’s eyes finally began to flicker, and she began to stir. She rolled a little further onto her side, bleary eyes blinking open and staring back at him, then broke into a sleepy smile. Samar squeezed those dark eyes slowly open and shut a few more times, trying to rid the fuzziness of sleep from her brain, but ultimately gave up. Aram couldn’t help but smile –albeit warily, in case she noticed. Most people were somewhat dopey in those first few sleepy seconds after waking up, but he never quite expected Samar’s sleep-dopey-ness to be quite so… _Adorable?_

A flash of terror flickered across Aram’s face; _never_ would he be able to tell Samar, one of the fiercest people he knew, that she was adorable.

She might actually kill him.

And yet, there was something about those bleary eyes that blinked back at him, and the sleepy smile just visible through the pillow mussed hair, that warmed his heart. 

He clambered quietly out of bed as Samar continued to stir, his mind now definitely made up.

He was going to make her breakfast.


	5. Right to the Good Parts Prompt 7 -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/162815323181/prompt-4-7-pleeeaaase-d), "Right to the good parts" prompts list [here](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/162783181852/right-to-the-good-parts-prompt-list).
> 
> Prompt 7: "I’ve never seen anything like the way you handled that. I’m just so moved." (Non specific timeline, established Saram, and I also couldn’t quite get the feel for this one so I made it more joking/teasing than super fluffy and emotional)

‘Seriously?’ Samar chortled, ‘it’s a rock.’   
'A _pet_ rock,’ Aram countered, shooting her a pointed look, 'and it’s important to the little girl who owns it.’   
'She left it _behind_ in the break room.’ Samar raised an eyebrow as she watched Aram amble around the Post Office break room, determined to _care_ for the pet rock left behind by the daughter of another agent who worked in the building –who they barely knew, for that matter. The child was ten; if the little girl had been five or six, or _Agnes,_ for heaven’s sake, Samar might have understood, but _ten_ seemed a little much when the child was basically a stranger. Surely, Aram didn’t need to make a fuss of taking care of the shiny pebble with yarn stuck on for hair, and googly craft eyes and a sharpie-drawn line for a face. Surely, the child was old enough to simply pick the rock up again in the morning, without needing to find the whole scene Aram was setting up for it. 

Aram however, gave an exasperated huff, and continued on doing what he was doing.  

He tore one side off an empty cardboard tissue box, and flipped that side to the top, so it sat on the break room table. In went the rock, notably face _up,_ laying right in the middle. Samar shook her head, forcing herself to hold in a laugh. Aram went on. He pulled a few paper napkins from the holder, folding them neatly and layering them into the box like blankets, tucking the pet rock into its makeshift bed. Then he paused, staring into the box and furrowing his brow in thought.   
'What’s wrong now?’ Samar asked, raised eyebrow flying even higher.   
'The box is too big.’ Aram glanced around the break room, face screwed up, and muttering to himself. 'The little rock’s going to need some padding, or it’ll have too much space, roll out from his blankets, and end up cold.’ 

Samar blinked for a moment, dumbfounded. Aram really was taking the job of pet rock babysitter seriously.  

With a sigh and a shake of her head in mock exasperation Samar too, panned her gaze around the break room, searching for _something_ to use to pad the rock’s box. Unable to see anything particularly helpful, she frowned. 

Now she understood; once you were dedicated to setting up such a scene for a child, it seemed wrong to leave it only half done. 

'What about the spare tie that Ressler leaves in his desk draw?’ She suggested suddenly, 'would that work?’ The mischievous grin tugged at her lips, already visualising the look on Ressler’s face if he found out that his tie had ever been used –or rather, _borrowed_ \- for such a thing.    
'I don’t think he would appreciate that,’ Aram replied, but then began to chuckle to himself all the same. 'But-’ he quickly undid the tie hanging around his own neck ’-the little rock can borrow mine.’ He curled the tie up and tucked it into the remaining space around the rock, while Samar –having now crossed the room in the search to stand beside him- spread the edges around to make sure they filled the corners properly. 

There, the pet rock would be nice and cosy.  

'Ok,’ Samar began again, staring into the box with a wry smile. 'Is this rock a he or a she?’   
'A he,’ Aram murmured back, frowning once more in thought, 'I _think.’_   
'Right…’ Samar glanced at Aram standing beside her, shaking her head in disbelief at the way he had managed to pull her into his shenanigans yet again, but still leaned into the arm he had resting around her back. 'Well, _he_ is not our baby to stare at like adorable, doting parents, so now that’s he’s comfortable, how about we leave him to sleep in peace?’ 

Aram couldn’t help but break into a grin. 

'I’ve seen you look after my turtle before, but never a pet rock,’ he mused, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, 'I’m touched.’ 

Samar rolled her eyes as they moved, side by side, out of the break room and towards the elevator, _finally_ ready to go home. She was never going to admit it, but pet rock-sitting with him –albeit for all of five minutes- had been kind of amusing. 

She was curious to see how delighted the little girl would be in the morning.  


	6. Right to the Good Parts Prompt 1 -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/162858538971/prompt-1-right-into-the-good-parts), "Right to the good parts" prompts list [here](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/162783181852/right-to-the-good-parts-prompt-list).
> 
> Prompt 1: "I have you shoved against the wall but now I can’t stop looking at your mouth." (Written with non timeline specific, established Saram.)

‘Uhhh…’ Aram’s curious voice sneaking up behind Samar, made her jump. ‘What are you-’ he tried to ask, but before he could even finish the sentence, and without Samar even realising who was speaking, she spun on the spot with lightning quick instincts, bundling him up against the wall _’-aaahhhhh.’_  
'Oh.’ Samar blinked, then furrowed her brow in confusion as it finally registered in her brain _who_ exactly had crept up behind her, 'it’s just you.’ Aram’s eyes were wide, astounded and still taken by surprise at the sudden movement that still had her forearm pressed across the bottom of his neck.  

_That_ was certainly not the reaction he had expected when he had gone looking for his girlfriend around the Post Office, only to find her creeping in the locker hallway, pausing right outside a locker that was notably _not_ her own.  

'Um, hi.’ There was a hint of indignation that crept into Aram’s voice at that, and the tiniest of guilty smiles flashed across Samar’s face. ’ _What_ are you doing?’ Samar however, ignored the question, instead glancing back over her shoulder and cautiously down the hall.    
'Ssshhhh,’ she hissed. Aram gave a sigh of mild exasperation. The arm against his neck –which despite Samar realising that it was 'just’ him, still hadn’t been pulled away- was something he couldn’t be bothered fighting. The curiosity for what she was up to, though, _was_ a pressing issue.    
'Are you pranking someone?’ Aram shifted his gaze just over her shoulder to the locker behind her, as he asked the exasperated question. 'I mean… That’s _Ressler’s_ locker…’  
'Sssshhhhhh,’ Samar hissed again. Clearly, she was watching and waiting for the effect of something she had done. Aram shook his head, and Samar finally turned her gaze back to him, eyes now narrowed in suspicion. 'You’re not going to say anything, are you?’ She cautioned, her voice low and tone skeptical.

Aram gaped, glancing quickly back and forth between Samar’s wry, raised eyebrow, and the forearm _still_ holding him against the wall.  

'What-’ he began to stammer ’-but… Why would I- you’re… We’re… _You know…’_ Aram cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly in her grasp.    
'Relationships mean nothing in a prank war,’ she observed, waggling her eyebrows.  

Aram let out what easily felt like his fifth exasperated sigh in less than as many minutes. Pranks had been flying back and forth all over the Post Office in recent weeks, but this was the first he had heard of any so called, boundary-less, all out _war._

…Though at least now Samar’s grip eased –albeit only _slightly-_ and a mischievous grin began to tug at her lips.  

She stared back at him, eyes crinkled in amusement at having caught him off guard when the reverse should have been true. There was something about the half-hearted exasperation still etched across his face, laced with curiosity, that made her stomach flip even more so in the twisted mix of adoration and utter mischief. Samar turned her arm from sideways across the base of his neck, so that it now sat vertically, resting against his chest and upwards until one finger settled across his lips in a teasing, warning, quiet gesture. She paused again, unable to stop herself from staring at those lips. Slowly but surely, she leaned in… Moving her hand away just long enough to press a soft kiss to his lips before pulling back again.    
'Um,’ Aram murmured, breaking into a grin of his own, 'not that I didn’t appreciate that, because I definitely _did…_ But what was it for, exactly?’  
'Keep your mouth shut,’ Samar leaned in for a split second and whispered into his ear, 'and we can get back to that later.’


	7. Right to the Good Parts Prompt 2 -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/162862893031/since-youre-sooo-good-at-it-could-you-do-prompts), "Right to the good parts" prompts list [here](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/162783181852/right-to-the-good-parts-prompt-list).
> 
> Prompt 2: "We were dancing but all of a sudden it’s a slow song and we’re standing here awkwardly staring at each other." (non specific timeline, established Saram)

The more upbeat music at the Bureau’s annual mid-year gala had only been temporary, and they all knew it. The round of popular dance song after popular dance song, from the YMCA, to the Macarena, and even Thriller just to name a few, had been the attempt of some higher up to get everyone on the dancefloor, active and mingling rather than all standing awkwardly making small talk for hours on end.  

It wasn’t a completely senseless decision; field agents who were used to the activeness and of constantly running around, felt stifled in the stuffy atmosphere of fancy suits and dresses, sipping champagne in front of their paperwork engrossed boss’ bosses… And frankly, even those who didn’t run around in the field all day –such as in Aram’s case- felt a little ill at ease there too.

The ballroom wasn’t Samar’s problem; she was used slipping seamlessly through them during undercover operations, and attracting the attention of a target… But that wasn’t the same as the tense atmosphere in the current ballroom, with everyone’s boss’ eyes on them.

And thus, the dance music had probably been a good call -at the very least, as an ice breaker for the entire room.

But, as the last of the upbeat songs came to an end, and the more traditional ballroom music took over once again, Samar and Aram glanced awkwardly at one another, not sure what to do. They had danced together quite happily amongst the crowd of enthusiastic YMCA'ers, but as soon as that music stopped, some three quarters of the crowd evaporated quickly back to their corners and small talk.  

Aram’s fingers twitched, tempted to reach out and take her hand. He knew she knew how to dance; they had danced quietly together quite happily on a number of occasions in the privacy of their living rooms after dinner… But in public was a completely different level, and in public in front of _all_ their bosses when they were technically dating despite working together, was an even more disconcerting concept again.  

Samar eyed those twitching fingers, a tiny grin tugging at her lips –clearly, they were both thinking the exact same thing. Still, they continued to stand there, growing more and more awkward in the centre of the room as the space around them continued to grow.  

But then again; it was a gala. They were _supposed_ to be dancing. _Surely_ they could get away with a waltz or two without anyone suspecting they were any more than they were supposed to be.  

‘Do you want to dance?’ Aram asked, tiny, cautious smile slowly starting to etch its way across his face. Samar panned her gaze around the room, watching the people around them and making an executive decision. She reached across the space between them, taking those eager, twitching fingers in hers and holding them tight. She met Aram’s gaze again, her grin widening even more so at the thought of being able to be freely affectionate with him right under everyone’s noses, and get away with it.    
‘Sure,’ she murmured back.

Aram beamed, wrapping one arm around her waist as her hand came to rest softly against his shoulder.  

…And step by step, they fell slowly in time with the few other pairs waltzing around the room, completely lost in their own little world.


	8. Right to the Good Parts Prompt 12 -Saram friendship/wanting more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/162862893031/since-youre-sooo-good-at-it-could-you-do-prompts), "Right to the good parts" prompts list [here](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/162783181852/right-to-the-good-parts-prompt-list).
> 
> Prompt 12: "We were pretending to be lovers but I’m not pretending anymore and I have to know if you feel the same way." (non specific timeline, with Saram friendship/wanting more)

The air between them was tense and quiet as they stepped through the rumbling doors of the elevator, and back into the Post Office. _Six_ days of undercover work, posing as a couple in some wild goose chase caper after some Blacklister that Reddington had _insisted_ on, and they had wound up _nowhere._

Well, in regards to the case anyway.

Why Aram was the one Reddington had insisted on sending undercover with her –as opposed to a real field agent- neither Samar nor Aram could figure out, but after being completely stuck in each other’s personal space the entire time and having to share Aram-lost-count-how-many kisses and other affectionate gestures just for the sake of upholding their cover, both of them were tightly wound balls of twisted, complicated, emotional mess.  

They were tired, they were frustrated, they were torn between being in need of their own space and not being ready to leave each other’s side just yet, and most curiously they were both wondering… Just how much of it was real and how much was pretend.  

In the entire journey back to the office from their cover identities’ home, they had barely exchanged a single word.

They were both too busy silently running the last six days over and over again in their heads, wanting to know but not quite wanting to ask.

The frustration and uneasiness must have been clear on their faces, for Ressler and Liz made quick work of the post-assignment briefing, before giving both of them a wide berth… And leaving them alone together once more. Samar sat at her desk, and Aram at his. Silent they stayed for a few moments longer as each flicked through the few final case report pages, scribbling away at each 'sign at the sticky flag’ almost as if on autopilot. Finally –and slowly, too- Samar swiveled her chair around, glancing across the thoroughfare that was the space between their desks, at Aram still sitting there behind her.

He glanced up, staring back at her right in the same moment.

'So, did-’  
'Do you- they both started to blurt out at the same time, then suddenly stopped. Samar winced, and a sheepish expression quickly crossed Aram’s face.    
'Oh, you go-’ Aram tried to speak again, after the moment’s silence of each waiting for the other.  
’-No, you can-’ Samar spoke at the same time, then quickly gave up again. She couldn’t help but allow a frustrated sigh to escape her; this was not going anywhere near as smoothly as she had hoped. They waited another few seconds, each hoping the other would bite the bullet and finally manage to get out an entire sentence… But neither did. Finally, Samar rested her feet flat on the floor and pushed herself up off her seat, reaching for the bag that sat under her desk. Aram watched her move, face crumpling in defeat; he was desperate to know how she felt, and not just about the last six day. He’d had a affection for her since the moment they met, and it had only ever grown deeper from there. Sure, most of the last few days has been spurred by the need to keep their cover –it certainly wasn’t the sheer case of being allowed to make a move and get away with it- but Aram had never wanted to play pretend.

He wanted it to be real. The problem was, he wasn’t sure Samar felt the same, and as strongly as he felt, he valued their friendship more than the risk of losing even that in the attempt to find out anything else.  

While her back was still towards Aram, Samar bit her lip. The silence from his desk was near agony. She didn’t want to leave him just yet, but she has hoped he would say _something._

The last six days had been spent pretending that her show of being madly in love with him really was just that -pretend.  

'Did you want to get dinner?’ Her quiet voice found him before she even turned around to face him again. Aram glanced up, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. He didn’t know how to respond. It felt like a trick question; he wanted it to be genuine, because he too, genuinely wanted to go to dinner with her, but he half wondered if she was only asking to be polite or because she felt sorry for him… And if that was the case, he didn’t want to say yes and force her to go to dinner when she didn’t want to.  

But now it was on him. Samar had asked the question and she was waiting on a simple yes or no answer.  

Aram had to make a decision.  

'Ah,’ he forced an awkward laugh to try and stall, 'aren’t you kind of sick of me by now? You know… After the last few days?’  
'I was sick of Henry,’ she replied softly, breaking into a tiny smile. Aram’s gaze lifted slightly; Henry had been his undercover identity, just as Ava had been hers. 'But…’ Samar spoke again, the conviction starting to grow in her voice once more, 'I think we need some time as just _us_ now, don’t you?’ A breath caught in Aram’s throat, not quite sure if she was asking what he thought –what he _hoped-_ she was asking. But… If she was willing to take the risk of asking, he could damn well meet her halfway. Nervous but hopeful, he pushed himself off his own chair and reached for his own bag too.   
'Sure,’ he murmured back, offering a small smile of his own, 'that’d be nice.’


	9. 15 Days Sentence Prompts 5 & 8 -Lizvabi early stages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_ ,](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/163475561136/lizvabi-its-just-a-frog-why-are-you-so) 15 days sentence prompts list [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/163444151261/15-days-sentence-prompts-randoms).
> 
> (written with a non timeline specific, established early stages Lizvabi)

The park was full of young families enjoying the chance to stroll under the sunshine. Children ran, jumped around, and squealed with delight around the playground and all the stalls and activities of the community fair that had taken over the entire space.

The park, in the same fashion, was full of potential suspects that Liz and Samar were supposed to observe. The happy noises of the children were faded out, both of them instead focusing on the adults supposedly chaperoning them from activity stall to activity stall.

When Reddington had suggested they go undercover for a few days, acting as roommates in one of the houses across from the park in a bid to figure out who around them exactly, was in fact making moves to smuggle endangered species and thwart Reddington’s more environmentally inclined efforts… Neither had expected that the community fair would be where they ended up and yet, there they were.

For the moment, Samar gazed at a table laden with flowers, that seemed quite popular with little girls using the flowers and tangled threads to make themselves flower crowns. She had slowly ambled in that direction, intrigued by one of the men at the table who was assisting his young daughter, until she found herself at the table’s edge, absentmindedly toying with the flowers as she watched him.  
‘I didn’t know you could make a flower crown,’ Liz’s amused voice broke Samar’s concentration and she glanced up, noting her partner’s sudden reappearance by her side and then turned her gaze down again, surprised at the discovery that her absentminded toying with the flowers had in fact resulted in threading them neatly together, nearly forming an entire crown.   
‘Neither did I,’ Samar mused to herself, giving a nonchalant shrug, 'though I guess it’s kind of therapeutic, and it’s not exactly difficult.’ In a flash, she threaded on the last few flowers and tied it off, forming a perfect crown that she set gently atop the head of another little girl at the table. The little girl beamed up at her in delighted surprise, but Samar’s focus had already switched back to Liz –or rather, the teasing smirk etched all the way across Liz’s face. Clearly, Liz wasn’t buying the attempt at shaking off the discovery that Samar definitely knew what she was doing when it came to flower crowns. Regardless, Liz didn’t press the issue any further; Samar had all kinds of quirks that she was incredibly amused to discover, more and more as their new relationship progressed but Liz had learned even faster that her new girlfriend was particular about keeping her less steely emotions and interests solely for more private spaces.

Not to mention, for the moment and especially while things were so new, they were trying to keep that new relationship just to themselves.

The looks on their faces was enough for both to know that Samar knew she was caught out, and she rolled her eyes, reaching just enough to nudge Liz’s elbow and prompt her to keep moving through the park.  

'Three suspects down, four more to keep an eye on,’ Samar murmured, determined to change the subject. Liz still couldn’t quite wipe away the grin, but she took the hint.   
'Which stall do you want to check out next?’ She asked softly in response. She glanced sideways at Samar, watching the contemplation cross her face. It was almost impossible to resist the urge to wrap an arm around the waist of her taller partner and lean comfortably into her side, but Liz forced herself to keep her hands by her sides. There were plenty of other agents stationed in vans around the park or following them from a distance, all watching and waiting for the cue to charge in and make an arrest, and neither Liz nor Samar needed those agents to see anything more than the standard interactions of partner agents.  

However, that didn’t mean Liz’s imagination wasn’t already wandering to the privacy they would inevitably have later.

'How about that one over there?’ Samar suggested, gesturing at another table just a few feet away. Liz followed her gaze, realising what table she was pointing to, and instantly froze.   
'The frog fishing game?’ She asked, more warily this time. Liz hoped desperately that she was wrong but Samar nodded, confirming her concern.   
'Two of our four remaining suspects are over there at the moment, so it might save us some time,’ she observed, before glancing back at Liz again. Samar paused, furrowing her brow eyeing the flash of anxiety on Liz’s face and the way her shoulders had suddenly tensed. 'What’s wrong?’ She softly asked.   
'Maybe we should pick a different table first,’ Liz muttered. Her gaze panned the park, hurriedly trying to figure out which tables their _other_ two suspects were at instead, but Samar wasn’t buying it. Liz was unsettled for some reason, and Samar didn’t like that one bit.   
'Liz,’ she spoke again, even softer this time so that the agents listening in via the earpieces wouldn’t hear them, 'what’s wrong?’ For a moment, Liz didn’t respond and Samar reached out, resting a reassuring hand along her arm. 'It’s just a frog,’ she pressed again, albeit gently, 'why are you so scared?’

If only they weren’t in a park, surrounded by FBI agents, she could have made a more comforting gesture, like squeezing Liz’s hand or holding her close…

…But they _were_ in a park, surrounded by FBI agents, and as much as Samar wanted to get to the bottom of whatever had frozen Liz with fear and comfort her, they were also on a case and more importantly, they were on a time crunch.  

'I, uh…’ Liz began, then trailed off awkwardly again for a second, 'didn’t have the best moment with some frogs in a high school biology class.’ Samar winced, and discreetly ran her thumb back and forth along the back of Liz’s hand until she noted the tension in her shoulders slowly starting to fade.   
'They’re _plastic_ frogs at the table,’ Samar reassured her, 'they won’t jump on you.’ She broke into a tiny smile, catching Liz’s eye from the table again; 'and on the off chance they do, I’ll keep you safe.’ Liz took a breath, letting out a uneasy, but appreciative laugh.   
'Ok,’ she murmured back, giving a quick bob of her head in agreement, 'and by keeping me safe, you mean you’ll completely destroy them, right?’ Samar simply grinned as they moved slowly towards the table, sticking close to Liz and angling their path in such a way that she could brush her fingertips against Liz’s without anyone noticing as she hummed in response;  
'Of course.’


	10. 15 Days Sentence Prompt 13 -Keen2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_ ,](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/163482407276/for-your-oneshot-requestthe-prompts-you-posted) 15 days sentence prompts list [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/163444151261/15-days-sentence-prompts-randoms).
> 
> (written with a non timeline specific, established Keen2)

‘Babe?’ Tom called out through the house, ‘I’m home.’ He allowed the front door to close softly behind him, glancing around curiously as he stepped further inside the apartment and the smell of cooking wafted through the air, filling his nostrils. 'I’m sorry I’m late,’ he spoke again, casting a quick glance down to his watch as he continued moving, 'my flight was-’ Tom rounded the corner into the kitchen and suddenly froze without finishing his sentence. There was Liz, in her usual assortment of baggy sleep shorts and his old shirt, with her sleep mussed hair half pulled back into a loose pony tail, grinning back at him from the opposite side of the kitchen counter where she seemed to be mixing flour into a bowl. 'Are you cooking breakfast?’ Tom asked warily.    
'Yep,’ Liz chirped in response. Still she grinned, and Tom forced himself to smeil back, though he was fairly certain that it could only be described as a particularly _pained_ smile. Almost warily, he approached the counter; Liz cooking was never a good thing. There was a special reason why, if they chose not to go with takeout or frozen meals, he did all the cooking.  

If Liz tried to cook, she wasn’t just _liable_ to set the kitchen on fire… She actually _had_ set the kitchen on fire on at least three separate occasions. And on the rare occasions she didn’t set the kitchen on fire, the food was beyond inedible. 

_'You’re_ cooking?’ Tom asked again, still both disbelieving and borderline terrified.    
'Mmhmm,’ Liz hummed back. She certainly seemed pleased with herself for doing so. She set the flour back onto the counter and began cracking eggs, taking no notice of the concern on her husband’s face.    
'Is this my punishment for coming home later than expected?’ Tom asked his third question in less than as many minutes, 'because I seriously tried to get on that flight last night, I swear-’  
’-It’s not punishment.’ Liz glanced up from her mixing bowl, and the contents within that she was now stirring, and rolled her eyes in mock exasperation.    
'But you’re _cooking.’_   Tom was fairly certain that by now, he easily sounded like a broken record, but he had honestly no idea how to react to the fact that not only was Liz cooking, but she seemed completely confident and unfazed by the notion.    
'When you called to say you were delayed and that you’d be back early this morning instead,’ Liz began again, all too matter of factly, 'I thought I’d welcome you home with some pancakes.’  
'You hate pancakes,’ Tom observed. Liz turned, flashing him another quick grin over her shoulder.    
'But you don’t.’  

She was too busy grinning at him as she started pouring oil into the fry pan, that Tom had to hurry forwards, seeing the impending problem well before Liz did.  

'Uh, maybe not quite so much-’ he tried to prompt her attention back to what she was doing.  
’-Babe.’ Liz interjected, with a one that was somehow both gentle and unimpressed. Still looking at him rather than the task at hand, she set the oil back on the counter and began pouring in the pancake batter. 'Trust me, I know exactly what I’m doing,’ she insisted. The earnest look on her face only lasted a second, before she finally broke into the more sheepish expression Tom usually expected whenever Liz tried to cook; 'mostly.’

Far too much batter went into the pan that already contained even more oil.  

The flame underneath the fry pan was set too high.

Tom could see what was about to happen, but he also knew Liz wasn’t about to let him jump in to stop it.

They had been through so many obstacles together, she was determined to make the most of any peaceful moment that they could share, just the two of them and in this case, she was adamant in her quest to make him a simple breakfast.  

…That didn’t stop the flames suddenly lighting in the middle of the pancake batter, and the fire alarm cheering them on barely a nanosecond later.

Liz jumped at the sound and Tom lurched forwards, the fire alarm now his cue to move. He turned off the heat on the stove, just as Liz ducked to the sink and back, pouring a jug of water over the fry pain and sending its contents spilling all over the counter.  

Needless to say, that ended the fire at least. Liz however, stood there, her shoulders dropped miserably as she stared back at the mess in utter dismay.

'I just wanted to make breakfast…’ She murmured, before trailing off for a moment, 'it shouldn’t be this hard.’ Tom wrapped his arms around her, trying desperately to hold back a laugh, as he buried his face in the top of her hair.    
'I know babe,’ he said softly, 'I know.’ Liz glanced up again, letting out a miserable sigh. 'How about we go out for breakfast instead? My treat.’ He pressed a quick kiss to her lips as if to emphasize the point, but Liz wasn’t convinced. She was all too disappointed.  
'What about all this-’ she gestured to the splatters of water, oil, and pancake batter all over the counter, the floor, and even all down their shirts ’-we can’t just leave that there.’ But, Tom simply dotted another kiss to her cheek, taking her hand in his and pulling her gently along out of the kitchen.  
'We can deal with that later,’ he murmured back, 'but for now, we need non splattered clothes, so we can go out and still have that nice breakfast together.’


	11. Wish Fic 2: "Saram on a Nerdy Date" -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/164777835231/wish-fic-saram-on-a-nerdy-date).
> 
> Prompt: "I wish you would write a fic where... Aram makes the plans for the date, it's super nerdy, and Samar realizes that she's having more fun than she would have ever thought on it." (non specific timeline, established Saram)

‘Are you _sure_ you want to do this?’ Aram asked for the umpteenth time that evening. He raised a wary eyebrow as they walked down the street, bound for the National Mall. Samar’s hand was in his as they walked; it was, after all, date night, but for once that didn’t make Aram any less nervous. They’d had their casual, low key, but no less romantic dinner –Paco’s Tacos, of course, but in one of the little dine-in booths by the window where they could watch the sun go down, rather than going with the usual take-away option- and in moving on from Paco’s it was time for the next part of their night out; the first annual National Mall Geeks After Dark Laser Tag Challenge. Aram had been itching to go since the moment he had heard it was being planned, but he still wasn’t entirely sure he believed Samar when she said she was willing to go with him.  

'I’m sure,’ Samar insisted –albeit gently. Still, she shifted her gaze back to him, raising a wry eyebrow of her own –her usual, subtle cue to stop asking.   
'It’s kind of…’ Aram fidgeted on the spot, trailing off.   
’…Nerdy?’ There was a furrowing of Aram’s brow at Samar’s attempt not to laugh when she finished the sentence for him.   
'Not really _nerdy,_ per se,’ he sighed, 'but I didn’t think it was your kind of thing.’ The small smirk on Samar’s face widened into an affectionate, knowing grin.   
'It’s not.’  
'Then _why-’_  
’-Because it’s _your_ kind of thing.’ She tilted her head, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek; 'and you’ve been excited about this since you heard about it months ago.’  

That was an understatement.

Every single thing Aram had read in the lead up to the event had him more and more excited. The entirety of that long, grassed space was being turned into a sort of obstacle course, with temporary half walls to duck around, multi-levelled frames and towers to climb, bases to breach for extra points, and all kinds of other things. There were no lights aside from those on the laser blasters, the participant vests, and a small handful of portable floodlights on the far corners of the course. Plus, there was a timed race element; where participants had to run the full length of the course while being tagged as little as possible and tagging as many _other_ people as possible too.  

Aram had being practically chafing at the bit to give it a go, but he hadn’t wanted to go by himself and somehow every last one of his NSA buddies were either out of town or had family commitments that night.

That left Samar.  

To be fair, Aram had insisted on making it as much of a real date night as possible, if she insisted on going with him for his sake –thus the dinner, and the surprise trip to her favourite ice cream place that he was saving for afterwards. She wasn’t overly enthused about the laser tag, but Samar knew how desperately Aram wanted to go, and once the dinner was added to the compromise she figured well, that was fair enough.

At the very least, she could give it a go once in her life.  

They reached the end of the street, now staring into the National Mall and the course that was somehow, even bigger than Aram had expected it to be. His eyes went wide, and without even realising it he bounced once or twice on the balls of his feet in excitement. Samar tried not to roll her eyes in amused exasperation, instead giving his hand a gentle tug to prompt him along towards the registration desk;   
'Come on, let’s go,’ she chuckled.  

Their names were signed in. Their bulky, flashing, plastic and velcro vests were strapped on. They were both on the yellow team, working together against blue, red, and green. They gathered around the starting point for the yellow team base, waiting for the air horn to ring out and signal the start.

Aram was back to bouncing on the balls of his feet, marvelling to himself at some of the structures and how well laid out the course was.

Samar faded out from listening to his voice. Somehow, standing there and observing the layout of the course for herself, she instantly found herself strategising the same way she did any time she had to plan a Mossad raid –it was an instinct by now, that she couldn’t stop. The rope bridge with towers in between looked cool and provided good cover for anyone wanting to build up points, sniper style, but it was too open, and too risky to cross the bridge to the towers, instantly countering the potential for points with the potential to be shot at. The half walls weren’t a bad option, but many had gaps in between them that were too open to cross. There was a tunnel in the middle that provided good cover, but only if nobody from another team entered behind from behind and chased her through until the other end.  

There was only a split second of realising what she was doing, between her strategising coming to an end and the air horn suddenly sounding.  

And then Samar’s competitive, stubborn streak took over.  

She lurched forwards, heading towards the wood panelled half-walls that were interspersed along the course’s edge. That reduced the chances of people sneaking up on her, provided reasonable cover without being trapped in a tunnel situation, and even went past two other bonus bases. Samar took little notice of the people around her who scattered from the yellow base in all different directions. Aram faltered, wanting to head towards the bridge and towers, but also wondering why on earth she was going in the exact opposite direction.

He paused, ducking around the corner of yellow base for a moment, watching both. In an instant, everyone from their team who had begun climbing the rope ladder up onto the bridge, was hit by a sudden array of blue lasers pointing up from the opposite side.  

Aram broke into a tiny smile as he turned his head back towards Samar’s direction and saw her ducked behind another wall, watching them all, shaking her head in exasperation at those on the bridge, and impatiently gesturing with her hand for him to follow her instead; whether she realised it or not, she seemed to have a knack for what they were doing. Aram raced towards her in a heartbeat, still grinning like an idiot.

'What’s your plan?’ He whispered, quickly ducking beside her. Samar raised a wry eyebrow.   
'Why do you assume I have one?’  
'Because if you’re stuck playing this ridiculous game, you’re going to try and win.’ Samar opened her mouth to respond and then closed it again. She narrowed her eyes at Aram and his amused, all too knowing tone. He had paraphrased her exact attitude and approach to far too many other things, and he was right on the nose –and, if the grin on his face was any indication, he _knew_ it too.   
'We take this side most of the way up, while everyone else is caught up in trying to take the bridge on the other side because they think it looks cool,’ she quickly explained in a low voice. Aram’s expression instantly sobered, knowing that he too had been tempted by the bridge for that exact reason, but Samar wasn’t finished; 'by the time they’ve lost half their points and realise they need to figure out a new strategy, we should be up far enough to take _that_ base-’ she pointed at the tiny, flashing green lights far ahead of them ’-without anyone else getting in the way.’  
'Then what?’  
'Then it gets hectic.’ A small grimace tugged at Samar’s lips. 'People hurriedly trying to think up new strategies will be like people in panic mode. Everyone will scatter which makes it harder to predict where they’ll come at us from, but… If we keep our heads down and bolt for the next base after that-’ Aram craned his neck around her shoulder to spy the even tinier red lights far beyond the green ones ’-we shouldn’t be hit too many times.’  
'And by then we’ll be fairly close to the end,’ he observed, bobbing his head in perfect understanding of the plan. Samar gave a nonchalant shrug; it wasn’t foolproof, but it was certainly the best option she could think of for the moment. Aram was back to grinning again, and he dotted a kiss to her cheek that Samar teasingly swatted away.  
'No time for that,’ she scoffed, 'we have a laser tag race to win.’ It took everything Aram had not to let out a laugh, and he waved a casual hand towards the path she wanted to take;  
'After you.’  

Bolting towards the green base felt almost too easy. With everyone else still running in the opposite direction, fighting over the bridge and towers, they had their backs to Samar and Aram, not even realising they were there. Only one pair of blue lights that had somehow made their way to one of the centre towers, spotted their brief flash of yellow running past along the far wall but at their angle, couldn’t fire a successful shot. At each half wall they passed, Samar made Aram stop; they crouched, peering over the top and poking over just enough of their plastic blasters to fire and take out at least two other players each, but without exposing any more than a half inch of their own vests for anyone to shoot back at –not that anyone even tried, or noticed.  

Green base was completely unguarded. Samar paused when they reached it, taking a breath. There, they had to be strategic. There was already a rumbling around the bridge of people moving away for other tactics like rats off a sinking ship, and as soon as a base was hit another horn would sound and the base’s lights would flash, signalling its team to return to defend.  

As soon as Samar and Aram fired, a dozen other players would start charging after them.

There were two targets, one either side of the base that needed to be hit to take it out. With nothing but hand gestures, Samar guided Aram towards one, while she stood by the other. No words were needed for both of them to know what they needed to do; to hit both at exactly the same time, set off the horn, and then _run._ Samar held up three fingers of her left hand for Aram to see from the other side of the base, with her right hand still pointing her laser blaster at the target.  

One finger went down.

The second finger went down.

The third finger went down, forming a fist.

Both fired instantly, and the horn echoed in both their ears. Samar turned and sprinted forwards along their path with almost a tunnel vision, barely glancing over her shoulder for more than a nanosecond to make sure Aram was right behind her still… But he was. Between the green and red bases, they didn’t stop. Other players were swarming towards the green base, looking for the apparently rogue players _not_ warring over the bridge. They needed to reach and take out red base, while everyone else was still focused on green.  

But once that second horn sounded, and the red lights began to flash, the direction from green to red would show their path.

After that, it would be an even faster bolt to the finish line.  

Now, it didn’t feel quite so easy.  

They took out the red base as simply as they had the green one, but this time hearts were racing. Other players weren’t far behind. That second horn sounded, but that wasn’t the only noise; then came the disgruntled yells and grumbles of other players in the distance, confused and frustrated by the development. Despite the thundering of every other’s player’s footsteps coming steadily towards them, Samar paused. She glanced at Aram, breaking into a mischievous, adrenaline rush-fuelled grin. Between just the two of them, they had turned the entire game on its head.

Perhaps there was some fun to be found in laser tag, after all.  

Aram grinned back, equally amused. He reached for her hand, tugging her along and both of them went sprinting towards the finish line.

The sound of the thundering footsteps came ever closer.  

It was other members of team yellow who first caught up, close enough to shoot, before hurriedly pulling away again upon the realisation that the rogue elements in play were in fact, their own team members that they had forgotten about. Their voices lowered from frustrated yells to hushed undertones, the dozen or so of them suddenly ducking behind other half walls, ready to back up their bolt to the end, from a distance.  

After all, whoever reached the finish line first, scored their team even more bonus points.  

Blue beams flew overhead, narrowly missing Samar and Aram’s flashing, yellow shoulder targets, as the next team began to catch up.

Red and green beams came next, cueing further yells as each of the other three teams began trying to shoot at each other and form a combined effort against yellow up ahead, all at the same time.  

Samar shook her head in amused exasperation as they continued to run; the chaos unfolding behind them only helped them get further ahead.

And then a soft, whooshing sound came from behind her, echoing in Samar’s ears. Her grin faltered, and she glanced back over her shoulder at Aram, his vest lights no longer flashing; he had been hit.  

'Go,’ he hissed, urging her forwards.  
'You’ll reactivate in five seconds,’ Samar whispered hurriedly back.  
'And then I’ll catch up.’ Aram held her gaze, willing her to keep going instead of waiting those five seconds that felt like an _eternity,_ for him to keep running with her. 'Five seconds is all it’ll take for them to catch up and shoot you too. The event promoters said nobody would get a perfect run through this course, _please_ don’t waste the opportunity to prove them wrong.’ Samar hesitated for a split second, but ultimately couldn’t argue with him.  

By now, what was supposed to be a light hearted game, was something they were taking far more seriously than either one of them expected.  

Samar turned on her heels, sprinting forwards. She had never been one to leave a man behind, so to speak, and it made her gut turn somersaults. The fact that is was just a game meant nothing; she was leaving Aram five seconds behind to possibly suffer the wrath of the cranky hordes behind him that were created by what had technically been _her_ plan.  

That finish line was only a few feet ahead of her. In the distance behind her, she could hear Aram’s voice yelling at her to keep going as his gangly legs tried to close the distance between them.  

And then the final horn sounded before Samar even realised her toes had crossed that line. She was bent over, clutching her knees and catching her breath. The digital scoreboard up ahead was suddenly lighting up with player numbers and final scores; her number was at the top. Aram’s was next, and the majority of the rest of their team was next by default. Samar slowly rose to standing again, letting out an unintended oomph as Aram practically ran into the back of her, and wrapped his arms around her. Her feet lifted off the ground, Aram practically unable to stop himself from proudly twirling her around at least once, and grinning from ear to ear. Other players slowly trickled across the line behind them, each and every one from the other teams looking bearing decidedly disgruntled expressions that matched those of the organisers who felt like even _they_ had been beaten too, but Samar and Aram took absolutely no notice. She laughed at his grin, and he just kept grinning. As they pulled off their vests, handed in their blasters, and signed out at the exit desk, he kept grinning, and she kept breaking into chuckles and shaking her head.  

They strolled across the remaining, non-obstacle-course-covered stretch of grass, still catching their breath, and with arms draped all too contently around each other’s waists. 

'I think we need to celebrate our victory,’ Aram breathed. Samar tilted her head from where it rested against his shoulder, glancing quizzically back up at him with waggling brows.   
'What do you propose?’  
'Ice cream?’ In an instant, those two words lit Samar’s face with a grin, just as Aram knew they would all along. 'You remember my NSA buddies keep trying to convince me to join their laser tag league, right?’ He added, and Samar quickly nodded. Aram paused, letting out a shy smirk; 'I think you’d be welcome to tag along.’  
'I suppose I could consider it,’ she mused back, 'if I get a double scoop.’ It took everything Aram had not to burst at the seams with both pride and laughter; she’d had fun. Samar would never admit it, but she’d had fun –and far more than she had bargained for.  
'Deal.’


	12. Wish Fic 3: "Under Cover of Bathroom (not Darkness)" -Saram friendship/wanting more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/164781968346/i-wish-you-could-write-a-fic-where-aram-and-samar).
> 
> Prompt: "I wish you could write a fic where Aram and Samar go undercover as a couple (and of course they are not one... yet!)." (non specific timeline, Saram friendship/wanting more)

Sunshine creeping in through the crack in the curtain made Aram begin to stir. He grumbled to himself as his brain began to return to the realm of consciousness; it had been a few days already, but still each morning Aram woke up in that strange bedroom in that strange house that wasn’t his, it took him a moment to remember why he was there.

The undercover operation.

The undercover operation that for some ridiculous reason, he had to go on instead of Ressler.

The undercover operation where he and Samar had to pose as a wealthy married couple –he was the ‘typical IT bajillionaire’ as Ressler had described it, while Samar was supposed to be playing his ‘real housewife’ as Liz had described it- in one of those overly film-set like, perfectly pruned, gated communities full of huge homes and sprawling yards… All to figure out who in the neighbourhood was selling secrets.  

'Rise and shine, handsome,’ Samar’s droll voice floated into the room barely a second ahead of her. She strolled in, seemingly far too amused with the whole situation as she had been the entire time so far, waggling her brow at his bare chest that the sheets no longer covered. 'I made coffee,’ she added, setting a steaming, fresh cup of coffee on the nightstand beside him. Aram barely had the time to roll over, rub his eyes, and glance at the coffee, before the weight of gorgeous Mossad agent suddenly deposited itself on top of him. Samar leaned in, nuzzling into his neck. It was all an act; they knew there were cameras all over the house, and extensively spread too… But the only place in the house they knew for sure had none at all, was their bathroom. From the moment they woke up until the moment they fell asleep again, they had to act and speak like a happily married couple, as if somewhere down the street there was someone watching their every move.  

'How long have you been awake?’ Aram sleepily mumbled to her.    
'Long enough to say I’ve already dealt with too many phone calls this morning. I haven’t even had time for a shower yet.’ Aram turned his head on the pillow, trying not to catch a breath in his throat at the way her hands were running up and down his chest, and her lips teased his jawline. For all they knew, there were cameras right there in the bedroom.    
'Do you, uh… Want me to join you?’ The grin that etched its way across Samar’s face was one that Aram could easily have described as being perfectly at home on the face of a Cheshire cat. Her fingertips found his, dragging him slowly out of the bed, across the room, and into the bathroom, waiting for the door to close softly behind them before letting go.

There had to be a reason that made sense on the cameras for her to drag him into the bathroom so often to talk case details in the only place where they were safe to do so.

'Um, not that I don’t enjoy that kind of good morning-’ Aram ran anxious fingers through his thick hair ’-but is this really becoming the morning routine for the entire time we’re on this op?’ Not that he was _at all_ uncomfortable with Samar being all over his personal space, but he was uncomfortable with any notion that _she_ was uncomfortable and felt like she had to force herself into his personal space. The whole operation was awkward and wonderful on so many complicated and twisted levels; Aram loved her like something crazy, and naturally he was enjoying her company –perhaps a little _too_ much, he worried- but this wasn’t how he wanted it to go. He felt awful every time he had put his arm around her or kiss her cheek like a loving husband would, while knowing that it was all an act and maybe, Samar didn’t want him touching her like that at all. And then there was the fact that she slept in an oversized shirt, and the sort of short, cotton sleep shorts that left far less of her legs to the imagination than Aram would have liked for a time while they were only _pretending_ to be a couple. Of course, Samar had insisted before they arrived that she had done many a similar operation before and she was fine with it, but that didn’t make Aram feel any less guilty.  

That connection was exactly what he wanted, but only if it was _real._  

'Not that you don’t enjoy that kind of good morning?’ And there returned the Cheshire grin; Samar at least, seemed to be entertained by teasing him… Or at least, so Aram thought. In reality, she was enjoying teasing him, but not simply to mess with his head. Rather, the operation gave her an open excuse to tempt him to make the move she had been waiting for… _And_ it was fun. Samar wanted more than anything for that connection to be real too, but what she wanted even more was to see him take the leap of faith and make that first move himself.  

'Wait-’ Aram winced, stumbling over his words ’-that’s not what I meant-’ he paused, eyeing the look of amusement on Samar’s face. She was toying with him. Again. He rolled his eyes in mock exasperation ’-do we have _any_ new leads from those phone calls?’ Samar forced herself to hold back a chuckle, recognising the moment to be serious again. She leaned back against the bathroom counter, loosely folding her arms across the baggy t-shirt she had slept in.    
'Ressler said he thinks the couple at number twenty-seven might be who we’re looking for,’ she explained, 'so we should check them out at number nineteen’s party.’  
'Right…'Aram nodded slowly. 'That’s the backyard barbecue thing.’  
'That’s tomorrow, at number thirty-two,’ Samar chuckled. There were far too many parties in the neighbourhood to keep track of–nearly one every day, it seemed- and it didn’t help that Aram’s brain was still half-asleep. 'Tonight at nineteen is the pool party.’ Aram blinked, slowly processing that. He needed that coffee that Samar had left him back in the bedroom. Meanwhile, he stood there, leaning back against the door across from her, in nothing but his plaid pajama bottoms, with his sleep mussed hair pointing in eleven different directions, while Samar tried desperately not to appreciate the view.

Well, she tried not to appreciate it _too_ much, anyway.  

'And what are we looking for, exactly?’ Aram asked, through a stifled yawn. Samar gave a nonchalant shrug; she was with him there. So far, aside from amusing herself, it felt like the entire operation had been a waste of time. They were looking for a needle in a haystack, and so far they had found nothing.    
'Any information we can get, at this point,’ she replied, 'and in the meantime, Liz and I have a ladies brunch here while you and all the other IT guys who are running Silicon Valley based companies from their outdoor lounges down the street, have that brainstorming discussion that they wanted.’ She rolled her eyes. 'Though, Liz is going to bring some miniature, hidden bug detector thing that Reddington took from a contact at the CIA, so we might _finally_ figure out where all the cameras are in this house.’  
'About time,’ Aram sighed, his tired eyes finally blinking away enough of the sleep to hold her gaze and offer a tiny, relieved smile. 'It’d be nice just to be _us,_ outside of the bathroom.’  

Samar broke into a soft smile; maybe, just maybe, they were getting there slowly.


	13. Wish Fic 4: "United Force Against the Cold" -Saram friendship/wanting more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/164787754406/i-wish-you-would-write-a-fic-where-samar-aram).
> 
> Prompt: "I wish you would write a fic where... Samar & Aram are stuck somewhere during a storm." (non specific timeline, Saram friendship/wanting more)

Samar paced back and forth across Aram’s living room. Not because she was being impatient, mind you, but because she simply didn’t know what else to do. Her laptop kept crashing since one of the internet browsers had updated and now all her secure plug-in applications weren’t up to date, or _something_ along those lines that she didn’t understand. Computers weren’t her thing.

They were Aram’s thing, so of course when her laptop started doing everything she didn’t want it to do and driving her crazy, he was the one she went to for help.

Case in point, he’d had her laptop at his living room desk for the last twenty-five minutes, doing whatever it was he had to do to uninstall some things, reinstall some things, make them secure all over again as per their job requirements… And after that Samar gave up trying to follow along.  

Strip and reassemble half the handguns on earth blindfolded, she could do. Fix a crashing computer without wanting to throw it through a wall, not so much. Aram had said it was a simple fix, and so that was that. She sat there quietly waiting and twiddling her thumbs, before starting to pace without even realising it.  

‘Ok, I think it’s fixed now.’ Aram’s voice was music to Samar’s ears and she turned, letting out a sigh of grateful relief as he gently closed the laptop and carried it the few steps across the room back to her. Aram paused though as he handed it over, glancing warily out the window at the storm blustering outside. ‘That storm is looking wild,’ he murmured. His brow furrowed in concern, and Samar instantly knew what he was thinking.  
'It’s not so bad,’ she quickly tried to reassure him. That was an outright lie; according to weather reports, it was one of the worst storms to hit the District in the last five years. There was no snow –yet- but the rain fell heavy and hard, the wind was so strong it was almost impossible to walk outside –not that anyone wanted to- and the few spatterings of hail had started to put dents in cars.  

'Yeah, uh,’ Aram shifted uncomfortably on the spot, gesturing at the rain clearly visible through the window, 'I would be a lot happier if you didn’t have to drive home in that though.’ There it was; that was exactly what Samar knew he was getting at. To be fair, she wasn’t looking forward to driving in that weather either, but it wasn’t far to her place from Aram’s, and she didn’t want him to feel like he had to let her stay either.  

'You live in a _one_ bedroom apartment,’ Samar pointed out, albeit gently.    
'I’ll take the couch.’ The response was quick and insistent, out before Samar’s observation had barely left her tongue. Aram didn’t outrightly push things onto people very often; usually, it was only in what he deemed extreme circumstances, when he was seriously concerned about someone or something.

This, it seemed, was one of those occasions.  

'Aram, it’s really not necessary.’ Even then, as soon as she said it, Samar knew there was no point. If it was one of those rare moments that Aram was going to be stubborn because he cared, he was going to either insist until she gave in, or fret the entire time it took her to drive home until she called him to say she had returned home safe. There was a sudden, loud crackling noise before Aram could respond at first –every light and electronic appliance in the entire apartment shutting down in an instant as the power cut out.    
'Please?’ Aram held her gaze, practically begging her with his eyes not to go out into the weather. Samar hesitated; there was really no way to argue, and the power had already been flickering in her neighbourhood when she had left for Aram’s place earlier. By now, it was probably out, just like his was.

It made more sense just to stay there with him, rather than risking the drive back.  

'Counter offer,’ she slowly conceded, 'I’ll stay if you let _me_ take the couch.’ Aram gritted his teeth, not entirely happy with that option, but knowing better than to fight it. At least that way, he knew she was safe. With a reluctant nod, he agreed, instantly scuttling across the room for extra blankets and pillows to set up the couch before she could possibly change her mind again.  

/*/*/*/*

The sound of Aram walking into something and promptly cursing under his breath, made Samar wake with a jump.  

'Hey,’ Aram whispered softly across the room as she sat up, gazing bleary-eyes around the space for him. 'Sorry, I was trying not to wake you.’ Samar stifled a yawn, rubbing her eyes with the backs of her hands. No lights were visible, not even the tiny ones typically found on the edges of appliances or devices, nor the usual, luminous numbers on the microwave clock. A shiver shook her shoulders; it was cold too.    
'Is the power still out?’ She asked. In the pitch black darkness, she could barely see wherever Aram was or whatever he was doing, and she had to guess which direction to fire her question.    
'And the heat too.’ Aram nodded, not that she could really see it. 'I’m getting out some more blankets out of the cupboard, hang on.’  
'It’s freezing.’  
'Oh, don’t-’ Aram shook his head, giving up. He had been about to tell her not to get up, to instead stay wrapped in her pile of blankets on the couch where it was warmer, but it was too late. He could just see the outline of Samar’s tall figure shivering her way across the room towards his voice… And all of a sudden she was right there, hovering so close beside him barely a fraction of an inch from touching him.    
'You know what they say about body heat versus blankets, right?’ He could hear her teeth chattering, and he had to resist the urge to instantly wrap an protective arm around her. She had arrived in jeans, a t-shirt, and a long coat, only one of which was really comfortable for sleeping in. Just to keep her warm, the t-shirt had been combined with a smaller pair of Aram’s pajama bottoms and one of his sweaters, but that didn’t hold up to the cold without the added layer of blankets as well.

'Well, yeah…’ He trailed off, raising a wary eyebrow. 'But-’  
’-It’s cold,’ Samar quickly interjected, 'if nothing else, sticking closer together would at least allow us to be under both sets of blankets at the same time.’  
'You’re not worried about personal space?’ Through the darkness, where Aram could only half see it as his eyes continued to adjust to the lack of light, Samar rolled her eyes in amused exasperation at his cautious tone.    
'If it’s a matter of sacrificing my personal space for one night versus potentially freezing to death, I think I’ll choose the former,’ she drolly chuckled back through chattering teeth.    
'You won’t _freeze_ to death,’ Aram couldn’t stop himself from laughing. He pulled another blanket from the pile in the cupboard, instantly draping it around her shoulders and then around again… And Samar made not one move nor word of protest. Rather, she leaned her head sleepily against his shoulder. Aram wasn’t overly sure what to make of it; he had well, _feelings,_ that he was dealing with and he was fairly certain that she did too, but it wasn’t as if they often had the opportunity to be so tactile and physically affectionate with one another in private. They led such busy lives that the majority of their interaction was at work and on the rare occasion it wasn’t, it was limited to a meal together out in public.  

It felt odd to have her lingering there so close… Well, oddly _pleasant,_ anyway.  

Surprisingly, it also felt far more natural than Aram would have expected… And he promptly draped yet another blanket around her and tucked the corner in tight, finally slowing her shivering.  

'But I’ll _feel_ like it,’ she scoffed, 'I really, _really_ hate being cold.’ Aram held back a laugh; that much was quickly becoming very clear. 'And,’ Samar continued, tilting her head to raise a wry eyebrow at him, 'since when do you need to be asked twice for a hug?’

Aram paused, his face crumpling in amazed disbelief. He had no response to that. He shook his head, quickly tugging another pile of blankets down from the cupboard, and then following her back to the couch. As soon as he settled down into the couch beside her and tugged the now double sized pile of blankets over the both of them, Samar curled into his side, leaning her head against his chest and letting out an instant sigh of relief. Aram couldn’t help but smile as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, feeling her sink into him. The frozen tension in her shoulders began to relax and finally, her breathing slowed with slumber. It was only another minute or two before Aram fell asleep too, kept just as warm by her as she was by him.

That smile was still on his face, and not that he could see it, but there was just as content a smile on Samar’s face too.  


	14. Wish Fic 1: "Saram go on a trip" -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/164815320711/wish-fic-saram-go-on-a-trip).
> 
> Prompt: "I wish you would write a fic where Samar and Aram go on a trip!" (non specific timeline, established Saram)

It was their first trip away as a couple. On the rare long weekend where they actually had the spare day off work, and where they had the advanced notice to actually book a trip to boot, Samar and Aram figured they needed some time just for the two of them.

After all, the likelihood of such an occasion rising again any time soon, was slim.  

They were learning far more about each other than they expected from a weekend away, in the sudden ability to spend all day every day together with nobody else getting in the way –even if it was just for a long weekend. Namely, neither of them were morning people but when on a trip away from home, Aram wanted to get out of bed earlier than usual to make the most of the time exploring somewhere new. Samar, on the other hand, wanted to take the rare opportunity not to go for a run before work, and sleep in instead.  

They were in the Bahamas. Between Aram’s delight the fact that they were staying in downtown Nassau, just a bridge across from Paradise Island where two separate James Bond films were partially shot, and Samar’s delight at the sheer warmth and sunshine that she deemed a vast improvement on DC’s current weather, thankfully at the very least, they were both too pleased with having a weekend away to bother debating their differences.  

‘Mmmmmm,’ Samar grumbled under her breath as her eyes cracked open. She rolled over, turning her head on the pillow to see Aram there, sitting up in the bed and poring over his laptop and his seemingly endless piles of travel brochures advertising attractions all across town. She had woken up to the same sight the day before too, with the colourful pages littered all across those typical beach resort white sheets; Aram was just too excited to be there, and was insistent on making the most of their limited time. Samar broke into an amused smirk at the sight of the brochure at the very top of the pile; 'it’s Pirate Museum day today, isn’t it?’ Aram jumped, jolted from his plotting and planning, and turned to beam at her now that she was awake.    
'Yep.’ He grinned, rapidly bobbing his head in delight. 'And I was thinking after that, we could go across the bridge…’ He trailed off, trying to contain himself.    
'Good morning to you too, by the way,’ Samar chuckled. Still rubbing her eyes, she pushed herself to sitting up, and Aram instantly ducked his head, dotting an affectionate kiss to her cheek. 'You just want to see the place where those Bond films were shot,’ Samar teased, through a stifled yawn, 'you know they’re not realistic at all, right?’

Aram rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. As ridiculous as some of those Bond gadgets were and how much Samar made fun of them –apparently as was her duty as a _real_ spy-  he was always going to love the films.

'I wouldn’t mind going _past_ it and maybe taking a picture,’ he admitted, before quickly tapping on another brochure next to that of the Pirate Museum. 'But I was thinking we could go to the Marina Village afterwards. Apparently it’s a nice spot for an evening stroll and some souvenir shopping.’

That caught Samar’s attention, and her bleary eyes snapped wide open in an instant.

'Oh, there’s an amazing ice cream place down there somewhere,’ she gasped, leaning over him to peer at the brochure in question and make sure it was exactly what she was thinking of. 'They have the best chocolate sundaes I’ve ever had.’ She met Aram’s gaze again, breaking into a wide grin. 'Can we stop in there?’ Aram simply shook his head in amazed disbelief, trying desperately not to laugh at the sudden enthusiasm lighting up her face.    
'The fact that of course the the ice cream places are the first thing you think of about any given area aside,’ he drolly mused, 'you said you’d never been to the Bahamas before.’ Samar waggled an all too knowing finger.  
'I said I’d never been here for _personal_ reasons.’  
'What could you possibly have done around here for _Mossad_ reasons?’ Samar pushed back the bedcovers, clambering out of bed without immediately answering the question. She flipped open the top of her suitcase, quickly rummaging for a fresh tank top and shorts, smirking as she deliberately avoided Aram’s gaze.  
'Occasionally we also provide technical expertise when it’s needed,’ she mused, _very_ slowly. Samar reached for her towel, pausing only to shoot Aram a playful grin before moving on past the bed towards the bathroom.    
'Technically expertise for what?’ Aram furrowed his brow, doing a double take. 'The Bond films?’ He leapt out of bed, scrambling across the room after her. _'Samar?’_

'If you want to get to the Pirate Museum early enough to explore the entire thing,’ Samar observed, 'I’m going to need a shower.’ She turned where she stood in the middle of the bathroom, stepping back towards him, then slipped her arms over his shoulder and clasped her hands behind his neck, pulling him in closer to her. 'Are you going to join me in here?’ Aram hesitated, narrowing his eyes. He was certainly tempted, but he knew she was teasing him.    
'Are you going to tell me if you’re hidden in the background of a James Bond film?’ He practically begged her.    
'Can we eat our ice cream on the beach and watch the sun go down?’ She teasingly shot back. Just to relax was all Samar needed. To be still and calm and warm, to feel the sand between her toes and listen to the soft waves of the ocean… Just to stop and breathe for a moment and enjoy what was around her. That was the ultimate relief from a life normally spent chasing down the world’s worst criminals non-stop. Well that, and… Simply enjoying being close to Aram.  

Aram hurriedly bobbed his head; he’d give her all the ice cream and beach sunsets in the world if that was what it took for her to actually answer the question.  

'Maybe,’ she mused, in deliberately vague response.    
'Wait.’ Aram paused, taking little notice of her pulling her sleep shirt off over her head, heading towards the shower door, and stepping inside. 'Maybe you’ll tell me, or maybe you’re in the film?’ With a grin, Samar poked her head back around the shower door as she replied;    
'If you hurry up and get in here with me, and then we have ice cream while laying on the beach tonight, maybe you’ll find out.’


	15. Wish Fic 6: "Memories of a Home Well-Loved" -Keenler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/164893482436/i-wish-you-would-rite-a-fic-where-keenler-go-to).
> 
> Prompt: "I wish you would rite a fic where... Keenler go to Lizzy's old home where she lived with Sam" (non specific timeline, established Keenler)

‘Are you sure you’re ok?’ Ressler’s soft question in Liz’s ear jolted her from her mind’s wanderings. She glanced up from the rickety, porch stairs they were climbing, offering him a half-hearted smile.    
‘Yeah,’ she said quietly. Liz bobbed her head as if to emphasize her point but Ressler wasn’t fooled, and he raised a quizzical eyebrow until she faltered; 'maybe…’ That was more like it; she had been anxious and quiet, lost in her own musings the entire drive over to the old home she had once shared with Sam.  

All dilemmas over her biological parents aside, Sam was the man who had raised her for most of the years that she could remember and Liz loved him dearly. His death a few years earlier had been gut wrenching, and ever since Liz had faced going through that house, reliving every last memory as she sorted through his belongings, she hadn’t once been back. Now though, after years of that old house sitting empty, the real estate agents were hounding her by phone, wanting to know whether she was planning on selling it any time soon… 

…But Liz couldn’t sell it. Not yet. There was still such a strong, emotional bond with her childhood home that she couldn’t let it go, no matter how impractical it seemed to otherwise leave it sitting there empty. 

She felt guilty, no matter which option she considered. 

Ressler had suggested that perhaps taking a day to visit the rickety house might help her to make a decision either way, and so there they were. 

His arm around her rubbed slow, gentle circles against her back for a moment as Liz took a breath, steadying herself. 

'I’m right here,’ he murmured. Liz fumbled in her pocket for the keys and Ressler’s arm around her pulled her in a little closer. Liz sank into him, gladly taking that extra second of pause to lean her head against his shoulder and let him press that soft, reassuring kiss to the top of her head, before finally forcing herself to pull away again.    
'Hopefully none of those real estate agents figure out I’m here and turn up,’ she muttered back. 

Ressler held back the grimace for her sake as Liz turned the key in the lock and slowly pushed open the front door; the thought had already crossed his mind too, and he was on the lookout. If any of those people who had obnoxiously harassed her via phone for the last week and a half even dared to turn up, he planned to stop them before Liz even had the chance to spot them coming. Not by pinning them up against a wall, mind you –Ressler knew better than to make the first physical move- but he was certainly not above discreetly pulling such agents aside and sharing a few polite but no less  _firm_  words until they got the hint to back off and leave Liz alone.  

They stepped inside, leaving the front door to fall softly closed behind them, then rounded the bend of the short entry hall into the living room. It was empty, no dining table or chairs sat off to the side, and no couch sat in the centre, in front of the old, wooden, television cabinet. They expected no less, but that didn’t stop the breath from catching in Liz’s throat. Every memory she had of that room was filled with warmth; playing with her toys as a young child, studying at the table when in high school, and always laughing with Sam the entire time throughout. Seeing it empty now, with the faded curtains pulled loosely across the windows, and the dust settled on the mantle… There was a coldness to it now, that stung.  

Ressler watched Liz as she panned her gaze around the room, taking it all in. She wasn’t happy, and that was the first thing to make him  _equally_  unhappy. He dotted another, quick kiss to her cheek before taking a few steps away from her side to the window, and tugging open the curtains.  

The room needed light. 

Just that small crack of sunlight creeping in through the glass was enough to start loosening the tension in Liz’s shoulders, and she gave an appreciative nod as Ressler quickly returned to her side. But still, Liz made no move to step further into the house. 

'Tell me a story,’ Ressler suggested, and once again that reassuring arm crept around her until his fingertips settled on top of hers on hip. He gave them a gentle squeeze and Liz glanced up, furrowing her brow in confusion.    
'Huh?'   
'Tell me a story,’ he repeated, softer this time, 'a good memory of this room.’ Liz paused, staring around the room as she thought about it. The memories came flooding back and she broke into a tiny smile, still staring at the section of wall where the paint flaked in lines from the television cabinet that had once been set against it.    
'When I was ten, Sam had a few friends over to watch the Superbowl,’ Liz slowly began, 'I never saw the appeal, but he _loved_  football. Even though I was only young he still asked me first if I didn’t mind… He knew I didn’t like football and all I wanted to do back then was read. I didn’t mind when he asked, but about halfway through the game one of his friends started to get too loud and it was making me uncomfortable. I didn’t say anything but somehow Sam knew…’ The contemplative smile on her face widened a little more, and she leaned her head back on Ressler’s shoulder as she spoke. 'He kicked them all out, wrapped me in a big hug and told me I was far more important than any football match… Even the Superbowl.’    
'Then what happened?'   
'Then we built a blanket fort off the couch and he told me to pick any movie I wanted… And we sat in that fort and had a marathon with all the popcorn and snacks his friends left behind.’ Liz let out a deep breath, hurriedly blinking away the sting of tears forming in the corners of her eyes.  

Ressler’s eyes crinkled; with that story, he could see the room around them coming to life. He could imagine a blanket fort in the middle, with Liz tucked away inside for hours, watching a movie or reading a book. It was bittersweet, both bringing life back to that cold room and its stilted light, but also making its current state all the more unsettling.  

Finally, Liz pulled away from him, taking a few steps onwards to the kitchen. Still, Ressler followed closely behind, ready to be there for her wherever she decided to wander around her old home. They had all day. They could stop and reflect in each and every room if she wanted to, and they wouldn’t need to rush. Liz sniffled, trying to steady herself again, as she took in the old countertop with the crack in the corner that was the result of a ball being thrown around inside when she was seven, and the tiny scorch mark on the wall next to where the microwave had once been –the result of one of her earliest kitchen disasters. Her fingertips traced the edge of each mark of the well-loved home, remembering each and every moment that had caused them.  

'Thanks,’ she murmured.    
'For what?’ Liz glanced back to him as soon as the question left Ressler’s lips. She tilted her head, the tiniest fraction of a knowing smile beginning to etch its way across her face.    
'For reminding me to focus on the good memories.'   
'I said nothing of the sort,’ Ressler mused, though the tiny smile on his face said otherwise and made Liz shake her head in grateful amusement. 'Tell me about the kitchen,’ he added, with a cautious grin, 'is this where you discovered your deep hatred of pancakes?' 

Liz simply stared back at him, still shaking her head rather than responding. It amazed her how no matter how awful she felt, he could always find a way to make her smile.  

'I don’t think I’m going to sell this place just yet,’ she said. There it was; the determination was back in her voice. There was no more wavering of doubt, no more hesitation. Liz had made her decision.    
'I know.’ Ressler wrapped his arms around her again, and he pulled her in close. It had been a suspicion and a gamble on his part, that all she needed was to revisit her old home. He knew she wasn’t ready to let it go just yet, but the pressure to give in to her guilt and sell it instead was overwhelming. Taking the moment to see it all again with her own eyes and reflect on the years passed wasn’t easy, and yet… It salved the guilt. 'Maybe… We could come down here whenever we get a free weekend, and we could do it up,’ he added. 'We could repaint where it’s flaking… I could fix that wobbly plank on the porch.' 

Still leaning into his chest, Liz tilted her head up so that her chin rested there and she stared up at him. Finally, her eyes crinkled with adoration. 

'And make it sort of like our vacation place for when we just need a couple of days out of DC, just for the two of us?'   
'Yeah.’ Ressler nodded, earnestly holding her gaze. 'And don’t sell it until you’re ready.' Liz slipped both arms over his shoulders, clasping her hands together behind his neck and pulling him towards her, kissing him deeply.    
'Have I mentioned how much I love you?’ She asked quietly. Ressler smiled softly back, leaning his forehead gently against hers as he replied;    
'I love you too.’


	16. Request fic: "Shampoo Bottles" -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/165002940096/for-your-oneshot-requests-a-scenario-in-which).
> 
> Prompt: "A scenario in which Samar and Aram are having a date over at Aram's apartment and they stumble across something that Janet had left there that Aram forgot was there and Aram tries (in his precious and awkward way) to tell Samar why she's the one that he wants to be with." (non specific timeline, established Saram)

It was late. Between their case wrapping up far later than expected, and the traffic on the way home being even more chaotic than usual due to some wild weather, by the time Samar and Aram  _finally_  pushed their way through his front door for the evening, they were both desperately struggling to hold back yawns. It was late enough that all plans to cook dinner together as they so often loved to do had gone flying out the window and instead, as Samar drove them both, Aram ordered pizza over the phone so that it would arrive more or less as soon as they did  _–anything_  to be able to fill their grumbling bellies and finish everything else they had to do as fast as possible so they could actually have the  _slightest_  chance of climbing into bed before 1am.  

By now Aram half sat, half laid back against propped up pillows on the bed, yawning his way through reading one last case report until Samar joined him. The noise of the shower turning off in the bathroom and her towel being pulled off the rail, pulled his attention far too easily. If he was being honest with himself, Aram felt like he had already read the same two sentences fifteen times over. He was too tired to concentrate.

All he wanted was to wrap his arms around Samar, bury his face in her hair, and be sound asleep in seconds.  

In staring blankly at the wall, contemplating that instead of focusing on the report, the bathroom door opened and Samar re-emerged almost as if no time had passed at all. Aram broke into a sleepy smile at the sight of her standing there, dressed in those cotton sleep shorts and his old, worn, MIT shirt, with her damp, freshly washed hair pulled back into a loose braid to keep it out of the way.  

…And, with a smirk that seemed the epitome of teasing, mock suspicion despite the exhausted rings around her eyes, she held up a golden brown, plastic bottle that looked oddly familiar.  

‘What is this?’ She asked slowly. Aram narrowed his eyes, staring in blank, tired confusion at the bottle until he remembered. In an instant, Aram’s sleepy smile faltered, and he shifted awkwardly in the bedcovers.  
‘Oh…’ An almost guilty grimace began to cross his face as he spoke. ‘I forgot that was in there.’  
'Janet?’  
'Yep…’

It was a shampoo bottle; one of many bathroom necessities that Janet had kept in his shower for the nights she stayed over, so long ago now… And somehow, it seemed to have escaped the post-Janet cleanout of the entire apartment after their split.  

Samar glanced back at the label on the bottle, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she read over the half-washed-away label again. Rolling her eyes, she ducked back behind the bathroom door just long enough to toss the bottle in the small trash can normally reserved for used tissues and empty toilet rolls, before finally re-emerging once again, rounding the bed, and then collapsing onto the covers beside him.  

'It smells  _awful,’_   she scoffed. An almost unidentifiable noise erupted from Aram’s throat –somewhere twisted between a sigh of relieved agreement with her and a groan of his own, equal disgust at the smell- and he instantly rolled onto his other side to face her, wrapping one arm across her waist and around her. The case file now sat on the nightstand with his back to it, abandoned in favour of a much higher priority; curling up next to Samar and both of them finally having a chance to relax.  
'Ugh, I know.’  

To that very moment, he had never been entirely sure what scent that shampoo was supposed to be. The smell of cinnamon was clearly there, but it was accompanied by something  _utterly_  overwhelming that he had never been able to identify. It seemed an odd combination for a shampoo but for whatever reason, that scent had been Janet’s product of choice.  

'But she loved it and you didn’t have the heart to tell her how disgusting it was, did you?’ There was a wry, affectionate smile on Samar’s face as she laid her head back on the pillow, gazing back up at him. It must have been clear on her face that she was trying not to look too amused however, because Aram bowed his head with a clear hint of embarrassment.    
'Your, uh, flowery stuff is much nicer,’ he mumbled, rather than answering the question. Aram let out a nervous laugh; he would have expected that Samar would have been irritated by finding something of Janet’s still laying around but instead, her face simply bore that soft smile, and it threw him off guard.  
'Lavender.’  
'Huh?’

'The flowery stuff,’ Samar mused, 'it’s lavender… And jasmine. Which is a slightly intense combination, I know, but-’  
’-No, I like it,’ Aram beamed and eagerly bobbed his head, practically cutting her off, 'it’s relaxing. I mean, uh, it’s not overwhelmingly strong or anything, don’t worry-’ he froze for a split second, the beam instantly faltering in favour of a more sheepish expression ’-but I can smell it, you know… When you stay over. It’s a nice scent to fall asleep next to for the rest of my life, unlike Janet’s-’ Aram winced ’-wait, that didn’t come out right-’ he sighed, shaking his head, stuck on how to express exactly what it was that he wanted to say, and now embarrassed by the idea that he had possibly just put his foot in his mouth.

In every future he imagined now, Samar was there by his side, or he was there by hers.  

No matter what.

Despite Aram’s awkward wince and his anxious stumbling over his words still, Samar smiled up at him in adoring amusement.  

'It relaxes me too,’ she said softly. There was a reason she chose that particular shampoo. 'It smells like home.’ The garden around the home she had grown up in before her parents were killed and everything changed, had been full of jasmine, lavender, and all kinds of other, beautiful things that her mother had carefully, lovingly cultivated every day. That garden had been a veritable paradise of colour and amazing perfume… Until all that was left was the longing, wistful memory of those more innocent days left far behind. The memory of her parents, of days spent running and playing through that garden with them, was a powerful one. It kept her going on the hardest of days, reminding her of everything she worked hard to protect and everything she dreamed have having once again one day. It kept her focused on the joy of life’s simplest pleasures when everything else felt like it was crashing down around her, and it somehow managed to bring a smile to herself when nothing else could.

Until finding that scent again years later, Samar never would have believed that something so simple could have so powerful an effect… But it did.  

The awkward expression on Aram’s face instantly softened. He reached forwards, just enough for his fingertips to gently sweep away those shorter, loose strands of hair from her face and tuck them behind her ear.

'I’d love my home to smell like that,’ he murmured. There was an earnestness to his tone now. The embarrassment was gone, as if somehow he could read her thoughts simply from the look on her face and he knew that had moved on to something far bigger than a rogue shampoo bottle left behind in his shower. His fingertips lingered softly against her cheek and hers rose to match, pulling him down… Pulling him closer, just enough to whisper before pressing her lips against his;  
'I think we can manage that.’


	17. Quote Prompt 79 -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/165611037456/saram-79), Quote Prompts list [here](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/165599970611/writing-prompts).
> 
> Prompt 79: "You’re safe now. I’ve got you." (Written with non timeline specific, established Saram)

Aram hummed happily to himself as he ambled around the kitchen. The coffee machine was busily whirring with that liquid elixir of life that he knew Samar would appreciate the second she stepped out of the shower, and Aram was just about to start mixing together a batch of pancakes too.

…And then an uncharacteristic, not-quite-squeal emerged from the bathroom –making him jump- very quickly followed by a rather loud;

 _‘Aram.’_   The mixing bowl that he had just pulled from the cupboards dropped to the counter in an instant, and Aram bolted.  
'What’s wrong?’ He practically gasped, the second he rounded the corner from the bedroom into the bathroom. Samar turned on the spot to face him, hurriedly wrapping herself in her towel, and gesturing wildly towards the shower with a look of particular distaste.  
'There’s a  _spider_  in your shower.’ Aram followed her gaze, now eyeing the tiny, fuzzy arachnid that sat along the top edge of the tiling, just above the shower head.    
'Oh yeah.’ Aram gave an absent minded nod of recognition to the spider. 'That’s Spike, he showed up yesterday.’  
'You  _named_  it?’ Samar’s expression turned incredulous, and Aram faltered.  
'Well…’ He began, shuffling awkwardly on his feet. 'If he’s going to just sit there watching me shower, it’s less awkward to talk him than feel like he’s some kind of voyeur, right?’ Samar rolled her eyes.  
'Can you please just remove it?’ She sighed.    
'I didn’t know you were scared of spide-’  
’-I’m not  _scared.’_  There was a particular vehemence in Samar’s tone as she cut him off; 'I just  _really_  don’t like them.’

It was a struggle for Aram to stop his lip from beginning to twitch in amusement. Of all the things for his gun toting, butt-kicking, bad-guy-catching girlfriend to actually be afraid of, spiders were the  _last_  thing he was expecting.  

'You were trained by Mossad…’ Aram nearly choked on the laugh that he was trying to hold back, rather than finishing the sentence.    
'Guns don’t crawl creepily up your skin to sink their poisonous, little fangs into awkward and uncomfortable parts of your body,’ Samar hissed back, letting out an involuntary shudder. 'Now can you  _please_  get rid of that thing?’  
'But look at him… He’s just sitting there, he’s not hurting anything.’    
'Do  _not_  make me tell you that it’s him or me.’  

Aram’s eyes went wide as he met her daring gaze, and all traces of his chuckle vanished. Samar  _wasn’t_  kidding, she didn’t think the spider was cute, and she certainly did not see the funny side of the situation like he did –at least, not right now, anyway. She was uncomfortable, and that was something Aram was always going to take seriously. With a quick nod, he bowed his head and ducked out of the room and back through the apartment.  

'And don’t  _laugh,’_  Samar called out after him.    
'I’m not laughin-’ his voice floated back to her.    
_’-Aram.’_  
'I’m  _not.’_   Aram ducked back around the door into the bathroom again, his voice earnest now in response to her warning tone. Samar furrowed her brow at the roll of paper towel in his hand –she had assumed that when Aram ducked out of the room, he was looking for a shoe or something else with which to squash the creepy crawly that lurked over the shower head… But perhaps he had gone for the two bird, one stone approach with the paper towel that would quickly clean up squashed spider mess instead. Either way, Samar didn’t watch. She hated spiders, and for no particular rhyme or reason other than the fact that they made her skin crawl. They always had, and no matter the fact that even she knew it was kind of silly, she doubted that was ever likely to change. If Mossad training hadn’t been able to beat the disgust for spiders out of her, nothing would.  

Aram ducked out of the room once more, paper towel clutched precariously in hand. It took him a little longer to return this time, but by the time he did, the expression on his face was far more sheepish.  

'Ok, he’s gone,’ he murmured. 'Better now?’  
'Much.’ It was  _now_  that the spider was gone, that she could actually see the funnier side –and not just of her own irrational fear, but of the way Aram had temporarily adopted the spider of some kind of pet and yet still removed it anyway, just for her. She allowed herself to sink into the arms that Aram wrapped around her now, even going so far as to break into a wry smile. 'Did you hold a moment of silence after you killed him?’ In an instant, Aram’s head whipped up from where he was  _just_  about to bury it in her hair.    
'I didn’t  _kill_  him,’ he objected, face contorting in a momentary flash of horror, 'I scooped him up with the paper towel and I  _moved_  him… To the flower pot on the balcony.’    
'And there goes all plans of a romantic dinner on the balcony, watching the sunset.’ Samar let out a sigh, shaking her head in mock exasperation. As far as she was concerned, spiders weren’t humans, and if they dared to venture out of spider-friendly territory and into her space, then they  _very_  clearly had a death wish.    
'I’m sure he’ll have moved by then,’ Aram mused, dotting a reassuring kiss to her forehead. Samar however, simply raised a single, wry eyebrow.  
'And if he doesn’t?’  
'Then… I will move him again for you.’ Aram’s arms tightened around her that little bit more, pulling her in close. 'You’re safe now,’ he added softly. 'I’ve got you… And from now on I will be your protector from even the tiniest of spiders who  _dare_  to glare at you for longer than a nanosecond.’ Samar paused before responding; the amusement was still all too clear in his voice now that the ferocious, eight-legged beast was gone from the shower, but there was an element of seriousness to his words as well and so she let it slide.    
'Thank you.’  
'Do you want me to jump in the shower with you, just in case any of Spike’s relatives creep up out of the drain?' It took barely a second after the question came out of Aram’s mouth before he did a double take, suddenly torn between horror at himself, and sheepish embarrassment at the smirk that was now very quickly tugging at the corners of Samar’s mouth. 'Wait…’ He hurriedly tried to backtrack, 'that didn’t come out right. I meant-’ but before he could even finish the sentence, Samar cut him off. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips as she chuckled back;  
'I think that’s a great idea.’


	18. Quote Prompt 36 -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/165615743726/80-andor-36-for-saram-please), Quote Prompts list [here](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/165599970611/writing-prompts).
> 
> Prompt 79: "Did I say that out loud?" (Written with non timeline specific, established Saram)

The overly upbeat department store music felt like an assault on even Aram’s generally optimistic brain. He was never one for browsing stores rather than simply walking in, finding what he was after, paying for it and scurrying straight out again, and neither was Samar. For him it was the music and the mannequins dressed up until they resembled something freakish. For her it was the crowds, the checkout queues, and the overly fake smiles on the faces of the salespeople. Either way, while the department store wasn’t the worst place on earth to be and they both knew it, it certainly wasn’t their favourite either.  

And yet, there they were. There was a Bureau gala in a few weeks where their attendance was compulsory, and Aram needed a new dress shirt and tie, while Samar needed a new pair of shoes to go with her dress after an undercover Mossad operation unexpectedly resulted in her usual, trusty pair of simple black heels being destroyed.  

They were making a beeline through the womenswear section towards the shoes –the currently uncrowded sleepwear section providing a convenient shortcut- and as Aram made a point of following quick on Samar’s heels, he was desperately trying to drown out the music that sounded like it was better suited to an elevator or perhaps a phone hold line. It was just in the nick of time that he noticed Samar’s sudden stop, and managed to stop himself from running straight into her. Aram’s gaze snapped up to hers, then quickly sideways to furrow his brow at what she was looking at. There was a curious smirk on her face as she stared at a pajama set that in Aram’s eyes at least, needed no explanation. Deep blue shorts with red edging and covered in white stars, with a matching red racer-back tank top, and both bearing a distinct gold, winged W symbol –a tiny one on the corner of the shorts, and a much larger one blazoned across the tank top. The set left a little less to the imagination than Aram would have expected but there was no mistaking what it was; a set of Wonder Waman pajamas. They were mostly definitely not left laying around after someone had picked them up from the children’s section of the store and then accidentally dropped them, but they were Wonder Woman pajamas nonetheless.  

‘Do adults really go for these superhero things?’ Samar asked, still staring at the the row of them hanging from the rack. One eyebrow raised and her lip curled up in amusement, she reached out to trace the W on the corner of the shorts with her fingertips. Aram hesitated before responding; he had always been partial to superhero stories, but Samar never understood the appeal.    
‘Well… Some do,’ he mused. Not that he noticed, but Samar turned on the spot, shifting her gaze to the next few items on the rack. Aram meanwhile, found his thoughts wandering for a moment. In his mind, Samar was his real life Wonder Woman and well… He couldn’t exactly  _deny_  that he liked the idea of Samar in those pajamas.  ’…I think they could be fun,’ he added, under his breath.  

'Oh you do, huh?’ Aram blinked, jolted from his mind’s wanderings by Samar’s unexpected response. He glanced up, confused for a moment by her steadily widening smirk.    
'I -what?’ He asked… And then Aram’s face crumpled in horrified realisation. 'Did I say that  _out loud?’_  
'Mmmhmmmm….’  
'Uh,’ Aram stammered, torn between a sheepish grin and wide, guilty eyes, all the while his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. It wasn’t as if he didn’t enjoy their more intimate moments –because he most certainly  _did-_ but he was always wary of referring to them in any way that could accidentally come across as ungentlemanly. 'Um-’ Aram shuffled uncomfortably on his feet ’-what I meant to say was-’ he winced, at a complete loss for what to say. He blinked hard once, twice, trying to shake himself out of his fluster… But Samar was busily rifling through the pajamas on the rack, stifling a laugh while she seemed to be searching for her size.  _'What_  are you doing?’

'Buying myself some new pajamas,’ she quipped back, all too matter of factly. Almost with a flourish, she pulled a set off the rack, waggling her eyebrows as she then dropped them into the basket dangling from Aram’s fingertips. Aram’s head turned rapidly back and forth, eyeing the pajamas now sitting oh so casually in his basket, and that knowing, teasing grin on Samar’s face as she stepped back towards him, closing the gap between them.  
'But…’ Aram slowly broke into a shy smile as he spoke. 'You don’t even like superheroes.’  
'But  _you_  do.’ Samar leaned in, dotting a quick kiss to his cheek before whispering in his ear; 'this might even make gala night more bearable.’

Aram opened his mouth to respond but quickly closed it again, knowing well by now that it was always safer to roll with her antics when she decided to toy with him, than not. His eyes crinkled as Samar turned on her heels and continued moving onwards through the store, and he hurried along behind her.  

Somehow, he had a feeling that she was going to break those new pajamas out for an appearance  _well_  before gala night.  


	19. Quote Prompt 23 -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/165648631186/23-45-52-saram), Quote Prompts list [here](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/165599970611/writing-prompts).
> 
> Prompt 23: "Just pretend to be my date." (Written with non timeline specific, Saram friendship/wanting more)

Another case was closed for the day. Well, at least, in the eyes of the FBI anyway. As far as Samar was concerned, even though most of the Post Office staff had left for the day, and office lights were flickering off and doors falling closed, there was still one open case that she wanted to solve. She slipped her last official case report for the day into the filing cabinet, all the while eyeing the way Aram remained lingering in the break room. She could just see his outline through the half window of the dimly lit room, as he shuffled awkwardly within, apparently looking for something to do so it wouldn’t look like he was watching her.  

He was stalling… And he really,  _really_  needed the proper, discreet surveillance training that the field agents had.  

Yet, every time Samar had tried to talk to him that day, Aram had found an excuse to get away –either he had a search result pop up that he suddenly needed to discuss, or someone called him away, or he was simply and mysteriously absent from the war room. But now… Now, he was in the break room, a room with only one door. He had no escape. Samar strode the few quick steps from the filing cabinet across the war room towards the break room door, leaning oh so casually against the side of the doorway.  

‘What’s going on?’ She asked, straight to the point. Aram glanced up at her in surprise, his eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.    
'Uh, nothing,’ he said hurriedly.    
'You’ve been acting shifty and avoiding me all day.’ Samar raised a single, wry eyebrow at the way Aram was now shifting uncomfortably on the spot yet again. 'Did I do something?’  
'No, no, no.’ Aram winced, his expression quickly crumpling into something far more anxious. 'Of course not.’  
'Then what?’

'Um…. It’s kind of awkward, and…’ He trailed off, stuck for how to explain for a moment… But Samar’s face said everything, as it so often did; straight to the point was always best. 'My parents are in town. An old family friend that I knew when I was a kid is getting married, and her parents and my parents are still close so we were all invited,’ he hurriedly began again, 'and my Mom sent in the RSVP for all of us without checking with me first, and I just found out last night that she said I’m bringing a date-’ Aram barely paused long enough in his rambled explanation to actually draw breath ’-apparently I talk about you too much when I talk about work, and so she thinks we’re a couple and she just made the assumption that you’re coming, and she’s so excited about it that if I correct her now it’s going to break her heart, but-’  
’-Aram,’ Samar gently interjected, raising one hand  _just_ enough to reassure him that she got the idea.  

'Right.’ Aram paused, blinking hard for a second in some kind of effort to reset. He glanced up from where his gaze had fallen to his feet, taking a deep breath as he anxiously –and finally- met Samar’s gaze. 'Do you think… You can do me a huge favour and-’  
’-Just pretend to be your date?’ Samar tried not to smirk as she finished the sentence for him –though the corners of her lips still twitched with amusement. For her it was no big deal –for her and her former Mossad teammates both past and current, many of whom had little time outside of the job for relationships, going to events with one another to appease overly worried parents was far from uncommon. Plus, with the free, delicious food or quality entertainment –if not both- that often went with said events, not to mention the array of dresses for any occasion tucked away in the back of her wardrobe from undercover operations, Samar didn’t even find pretending to be a friend’s date that much of a chore. Aram however, was nervous.    
'Yeah…’ He paused again, still intermittently wringing his hands. 'Please?’ His eyes pleaded with her. 'And I  _swear,_  I will owe you  _anything_  you want.’

It was a struggle for Samar to force her lip to stop twitching with the verge of laughter; it was almost as if Aram thought he was asking her to save him from the end of the world. Instead, she broke into a soft, more genuine smile.

'That’s dangerous,’ she chuckled –albeit only gently, 'but for fixing my computer last week, and  _maybe_  some ice cream from that place you keep telling me about… Sure.’ Aram’s entire face lit up with relief and even delight.    
'Really?’  
'Mmhmmm.’ Samar couldn’t help but let out a tiny grin. She stood back from the door, watching the way that all the tension suddenly fell free from Aram’s shoulders as she gestured for him to lead the way out to the elevator and he did so, scurrying quickly forwards. 'Though, we might want to work on getting our story straight without your parents listening in,’ she added as they crossed the war room, side by side, 'and… If I’m going as your date, we’ll have to match. What colour tie are you planning on wearing?’ The question left her lips just as they reached the elevators and Aram stopped, doing a sudden double take, and furrowing his brow in thought.    
'I uh, hadn’t decided yet,’ he said slowly, 'what colour dress did you want to wear?’ Samar met his gaze again, that single, wry eyebrow creeping upwards once more.

'We might have to figure all that out over the ice cream before we even get to the wedding,’ she mused. A grin of cautious excitement slowly began to etch its way across Aram’s face. He hesitated for a moment,  _hoping_  that meant what he thought it did, before finally forcing himself to pull himself together just enough to ask her;  
'Uh, well, did you want to go…  _Now?’_

The elevator doors slowly rumbled open and Samar stepped in, Aram quick on her heels until he came to a stop beside her once more. All Samar could do was offer a teasing waggle of her brow as she simply replied;    
'Why not?’


	20. Quote Prompt 31 -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/165716428621/31-saram), Quote Prompts list [here](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/165599970611/writing-prompts).
> 
> Prompt 31: "You weren't supposed to laugh!" (Written with non timeline specific, established Saram)

‘You know,’ Aram sighed, turning slightly in his seat to face Samar beside him on the couch. Her eyes were crinkled and she was trying desperately –and  _failing-_  to stifle a laugh.  'When I offered to show you a few Xbox games, I was  _kidding,’_  he added, with a half-hearted grumble, 'I didn’t expect you to take me seriously-’  
’-They’re important to you, plus we’re stuck inside during the storm-’  
’-Let alone  _beat_  me at  _all_ of them-’  
’-Hey, was that  _really_  a surprise?’ Samar’s repressed chuckle still had the corners of her lip twitching. Perhaps  _important_  wasn’t really the word to describe Aram’s relationship with his Xbox, but he certainly did enjoy playing the odd game here and there on the rare free moments he had to do so… And he also seemed to take a  _great_  deal of personal pride in his high scores.

Samar assumed that was simply yet another aspect of the male ego that she would never quite understand.

Either way, with the ferocious weather outside that had cancelled his plan of treating her to a romantic picnic lunch, she had thought it would be _interesting_  at the very least to take him up on his joking offer of a round of Xbox, and see what all the fuss was about.  

When she won –or rather,  _completely wiped the floor_  with him- the first couple of rounds of Call of Duty, they both put it down to a combination of beginner’s luck and clever weapon strategy instilled by her Mossad training. After about ten rounds however, Aram’s amusement was steadily wearing thin… While Samar’s just kept growing with every fraction of an inch of exasperation that spread across his face. Now, he narrowed his eyes, pushing his controller back across to the side table in defeat.  

'And you definitely weren’t supposed to laugh,’ he grumbled again. The exasperation didn’t last though –as was so often the case where Samar was concerned- and as he eyed the way she bit her lip, desperately trying to stop it from twitching for his sake, Aram couldn’t stay annoyed. He couldn’t hold on to that kind of frustration over such silly things, even if he tried and well, Samar  _had_  voluntarily joined him in playing the game just because she knew he loved it.  

'Sorry.’ It was impossible to open her mouth without at least a tiny chuckle managing to escape, but the intent was still sincere. The look on Aram’s face morphed into something far more sheepish as Samar handed over her own controller in a gesture of mock surrender, and he reached out to wrap his arms around her instead.  
'Come here,’ he murmured. He was still grumbling and muttering under his breath, but he meant none of it. Samar shuffled across the couch to close the gap between them and curl up against his side –not even trying to hold back the tiny, amused smirk anymore. Aram’s arms tightened around her, holding her close, and he buried his face in her hair.  

'So…’ Samar began, her voice low and softly teasing. She let out a deep, content sigh as she tucked her head more comfortably against his shoulder, and Aram dotted a slow kiss to the top of her head there. 'If it’s still stormy outside, what do you want to do instead?’ There was a pause; Samar broke into a wry smile and shifted her head just enough to peer up at Aram, who grinned sheepishly instead. One gangly arm reached across behind him, grasping that controller once more and holding it up for her to see before he replied;    
'Teach me your magic?’ Samar couldn’t help but let out a real chuckle in response, dotting a quick kiss of her own to his cheek before sitting up and reaching for her own controller again.    
'Deal.’


	21. Quote Prompts 45 & 52 -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/165825517071/quote-prompts-45-52-saram), Quote Prompts list [here](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/165599970611/writing-prompts).
> 
> Prompt 45: “I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay" and Prompt 52: “I think I’m in love with you and that scares me half to death.” (Written with non timeline specific, established Saram)

It wasn't the first time Samar awoke with a jump and a gasp. She was familiar with it enough by now that any time it happened, as soon as she managed to wake herself up enough to process it, she could usually calm herself down again easily enough. It happened regularly enough too; not every night, or even every week for that matter, but once a month or so and often after a particularly stressful day in the field, her brain would fight that inevitable battle with the demons in her dreams.  

It was an occupational hazard given the things she saw and cases she worked every day, not to mention the difficult childhood she had lived through before that.

Samar sat up in her bed, pulling her knees up to just below her chin and wrapping her arms around her shins. She took a deep breath, and then a second, and then a third, attempting the forced slowing of her adrenaline fuelled heart rate. One hand ran anxious fingertips through her hair, pushing it back of her face, before fumbling sideways towards her nightstand. Those fingertips grabbed at her phone, searching for that one tiny button that suddenly sent the blue screen light glaring into her eyes.  

_3.17am._

Samar bit her lip; that was far too early to call him. After the horrific death scene that had just rocked her slumber –no matter the fact that she knew it wasn't real- she so desperately needed to hear Aram's voice... And yet at the same time, she felt bad waking him. She would spend the next day running on limited enough sleep as it was, after not returning home from a Mossad assignment until 1am. There was no need to deprive Aram of sleep as well.

And yet...

Her racing heartbeat and still sleep-fuzzy brain went flying against her better judgement.  

It only took a few quick button presses to dial. The line rang longer than usual but finally, Aram picked up.  

'Hey,' Samar began softly at his pillow muffled greeting, 'it's just me.' There was a pause, where Aram was undoubtedly still waking up and processing what was happening.    
'You're back,' his mumbled voice came back through the phone. Just that was an instant relief that made Samar breathe a little easier, but even better was the tone that almost always went with him smiling sleepily at her across the pillow. For a moment, Samar fought the instinct to reach across the darkness of her room, searching for him on the other side of the bed. More often than not these days, they spent their nights together despite still technically having separate apartments. Only on rare occasions such as these, where for whatever reason work kept them apart, did they now sleep alone. It felt odd now for patches of the bedcovers that were only inches away to feel so cold. 'Mmm...' Aram grumbled under his breath again, and Samar could hear him rolling over and pushing himself up to sitting. 'Samar, it's three in the morning...'  
'Sorry,' she murmured back, 'I wasn't sure if I should wake you.' Samar took another deep breath, still running those anxious fingertips through her pillow-loosened pony tail.    
'What's wrong?' The concern crept quickly into Aram's voice now that he was properly waking up. 'Did something happen on your assignment?'  
'No, no, nothing like that.' Samar hurriedly tried to reply. This was precisely the problem with waking him up; she needed to hear his voice, but of course it also made him worry. 'I had a nightmare...' Samar winced, trailing off for a moment. Aram was well aware of her nightmares after having witnessed them first hand on several occasions already, but she still hated admitting it. 'About you...' She added warily, 'and I just wanted to make sure you're okay.'

There was another pause from Aram's end of the line, where Samar was almost glad that she didn't have to see that sympathetic, almost heartbroken for her sake, expression on his face.

'I'm alright,' his soft voice finally came through the phone.    
'Good. I mean, I figured you would be-' Samar found herself nodding at nobody in particular, more than anything simply trying to shake it off and pull herself together '-I just-'  
'-Needed to hear it,' Aram slowly finished the sentence for her.    
'Yeah...' Samar's shoulders slumped a little; she hated the feeling of needing reassurance, no matter how normal it was. She prided herself on a level of strength that should was adamant would allow her to deal with something as seemingly silly as a nightmare by herself. And yet... All at the time, those flashing images in her head of Aram dying in her arms with nothing she could do to stop it, had shaken her. All at once, as frustrating as it was to need to hear his voice right then, she loved that he knew exactly what she needed –that he didn't mind in the slightest that she had woken him up, nor did he sound anything other than calm and reassuring.

He never judged her, not even when she judged herself.  

'Do you want me to come over?' That soft voice broke into Samar's train of thought once more.    
'Oh-' she winced again. In all honesty her answer was a resounding  _yes,_  but she didn't want to say it; 'no, it's okay. You shouldn't have to drive over here at three in the morning. It's bad enough I already woke you up.'  
'Samar, I'm pretty sure we're going to stay on the phone talking until we both fall asleep and it's only a five minute drive.' Though still soft, Aram's voice grew firmer now. He wasn't going to push it, but he could certainly read between the lines, and not to mention... Any time Samar was upset, he felt upset. Even if she wanted to deal with the nightmare by herself, just as she needed to hear his voice to know he was ok, he wanted to be there with her –to hold her close and comfort her, just to know that  _she_  was ok. 'Are you sure?' He asked again. Samar wavered rather than responding; he knew, and she knew he knew. And so, in gentle voice, Aram made the executive decision; 'I'll be there soon.'

Even with Aram having to get dressed, find his keys, and  _then_  drive over, somehow he still arrived in record time. Samar heard the familiar click of the door as he let himself in with his own copy of the key, and then... There he was. He paused in the bedroom doorway, smiling softly in at her for a second as he spotted her, still sitting there. Samar could barely see it through the darkness, but it was a smile nonetheless.  

'Hey,' he whispered. Aram shuffled forwards, dropping his keys on the nightstand and lowering himself onto the opposite side of the bed. Samar shifted across the bedcovers, resting her head against his shoulder while Aram made quick work of pulling off his shoes.    
'You didn't have to do this,' she murmured back. Aram tilted his head, dotting a slow kiss to her cheek. As soon as his shoes were off he lifted his feet, swinging them up onto the bed so that he could curl up properly beside her.  

'I know, but I wanted to.' As soon as Aram's head fell back against the pillow, Samar was laying down again next to him, curled against his side with her head rested on his chest and letting out a sigh of deep relief. Aram's arm wrapped around her, holding her close. 'What triggered this one?' He asked softly, 'was one of your team hurt?'

Samar shook her head against his chest.  

'No, it was something they were all debating when we left,' she said softly, 'one was saying he was itching to go home to his family, and one of the others said he didn't know how any Mossad agent could juggle family with the job that we do, and... I suddenly didn't know who I agreed with more.' Aram didn't respond; he knew when Samar was having that internal debate between the need to get something difficult off her chest and the frustration of not being able to find the words, and he knew it was better to wait and let her find them rather than interrupting. There were certain things where she found talking difficult, and fears were  _right_  at the top of that list. Instead, he held her that little bit tighter, running slow fingers through her hair while she breathed, just waiting for her to figure out what she wanted to say.  

'I think I'm in love with you and that scares me half to death.' Samar's voice cracked as she finally spoke. 'Now when I go away on assignment all I want is to come home and see you again, but what we do is dangerous, Aram. What if one day something happens to one of us? What if one day I go away on assignment and I just don't come home, and then you never know why because Mossad says it's classified?' Her head remained rested against Aram's chest, deliberately staring out into the darkness of the room rather than meeting his eye as she spoke. The realisation on the plane, triggered by her teammate's words, had struck her like a freight train; she had always known she liked having Aram around, but this had been different. This time, after a few days away, she had ached to see him again... And that was precisely what made it difficult. Getting too close to anyone came with the potential for disaster. At this point they were in so deep that she couldn't bear the thought of losing him. After her parents, then her brother –twice- and a few Mossad teammates along the way had already been a struggle; losing Aram too would be that one too many that broke her.  

And then of course was the worry that he would lose her. Every time she stepped into the field came with the knowledge that she was walking into danger, and she might not walk back out again. It was a hazard of the job that she had long since accepted, but that didn't make it any easier. Aram was always the one to wear his heart and soul proudly upon his sleeve, and he worried about her every time she went into the field until she came back again. Samar didn't even want to think how it would affect him if something happened to her at all, let alone if it was a situation where he would be left with all those questions too.  

'What makes you think I can't hack into Mossad and find the truth?' Aram murmured back. At last, that cracked a tiny, wry smile across Samar's face.    
'That would break a few international laws.'  
'In that hypothetical scenario, I wouldn't care.' Samar shifted her head, turning to glance curiously up at him as he spoke. 'And yeah, one of us might die tomorrow, or it might be that we grow old together and nothing ever happens-' Aram dotted another kiss to her forehead '-I know what your job is and how dangerous it is, but I'm not going to walk away from us just because one day something  _might_ happen.' Through the darkness Samar could see a small, reassuring smile work its way across Aram's face too and he reached down, squeezing her hand in his. 'I love you,' he added softly, 'and no nightmare is going to scare me away.'


	22. Quote Prompt 86 -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/165895322761/saram-writing-prompt-n-86-please), Quote Prompts list [here](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/165599970611/writing-prompts).
> 
> Prompt 86: "I got you a present." (Written with non timeline specific, established Saram)

Samar pushed her way through the front door into Aram’s apartment practically within a nanosecond of him opening it. There was a grin on her face –the kind that he considered beyond amused, and well into ‘dangerous’ territory. It was Valentine’s Day; the very sort of holiday that Aram had wanted them to enjoy together at last, but one that he hadn’t expected Samar be anywhere near as enthusiastic about. It was romantic to the point of cheesy –everything he loved, and that drove her crazy… And yet, Samar had seemed to be in a good mood all day at work, and apparently an even better one now that she had made her way back to his place for the evening.  

'Hey,’ she greeted him, pausing barely long enough to press a quick kiss to his cheek before striding all too confidently down the hallway into the apartment. Aram quickly shut the door and scurried after her.    
'Uh, hi.’ Somehow, he managed to get the words out, but by that point Samar already had her back to him. Still grinning, she was now leaning over the small turtle aquarium in the corner of the living room, reaching in with two fingers to gently greet the tiny creature within.    
'I got you a present,’ she mused.  
'Oh-’ Aram’s attention suddenly snapped to the gift bag dangling from her other hand ’-not that I’m complaining, but… Why, exactly?’ He furrowed his brow; they had agreed that for their first Valentine’s Day they would make a point of spending the time together, but wouldn’t worry about buying presents just yet… And it seemed odd to Aram that of the pair of them, Samar would be the one to break that rule.    
'Not for  _you,’_   Samar chuckled. She turned her head just enough to shoot that amused smirk back at him as she spoke; 'for Leo.’

Aram did a double take; first the excitement, and now she was doting on his pet to the extent of buying him presents. Nothing about the day was going as he had expected.

'You bought my  _turtle_  a present?’  
'You said he needed a new ornament in his tank.’ Samar’s tone was all too matter of fact and she shrugged nonchalantly, turning her attention back to the tiny reptile in front of her. 'I happened to go past a pet store that sells tank decor… So I thought I’d go inside and have a look.’ She lifted the gift bag, reaching in and then quickly pulling out the purchase in question. Aram’s eyes went wide at the sight of the surprising but familiar shape.  
'And you bought him… A shipwreck?’ He spluttered. Not that there was anything wrong with a miniature shipwreck, mind you… But once again, it simply wasn’t what Aram was expecting. Of all the possible fake-wooden shapes that could be placed in a turtle tank, little logs and tiny treasure chests were dime a dozen, but shipwrecks –while not unheard of- were not so much so. Aram watched as Samar set the ornament in the tank, taking the extra second to angle it so that it sat perfectly amongst the plants. A small smile tugged at his lips and his eyes crinkled with affection; surprise and confusion aside, the shipwreck actually seemed to suit the tank quite well. Once upon a time, Samar and the tiny reptile had been wary of one another, but nowadays Samar always made a point of both greeting Leo when she arrived, and saying goodbye to him when she left, while Leo more often than not swam to the edge of the tank to greet her in turn any time she moved past it.  

Now, they were friends… And Aram couldn’t help but adore her all the more for it.  

'Well-’ Samar glanced back at her shoulder over at him again, her smirk only widening at his state of bemused confusion ’-it was either that or the pineapple, and I thought the shipwreck was more interesting.’ She paused at the edge of the tank just long enough to gesture at the turtle now swimming curiously around the shipwreck ornament, before taking the few steps back across the room to close the gap between them. 'Leo seems to like it,’ she observed. It took everything Aram had to force himself not to make any kind of amused reference to pineapples under the sea, and instead focus on the now rather distinct lack of space between them.  

Her eyes still had that twinkle of mischief that so often went hand in hand with him being at the mercy of her whims.

Samar slipped her arms over his shoulders, linking her hands behind his head. Aram’s arms wrapped around her waist in kind, a shy grin crossing his face as he pulled her in closer.  

'I have a present for you as well,’ she murmured. Her voice was softer now, with a hint of seductiveness slowly creeping in. She leaned in to him, pressing a deep, slow kiss to his lips.    
'We said no presents,’ Aram whispered when they broke apart again. Samar’s lip twitched, breaking into that grin once more.    
'We said no  _buying_  presents,’ she corrected him. Aram furrowed his brow, surprised for the third time in just as many minutes. That was exactly the loophole that  _he_  had set up when they agreed on the rule. Samar slipped one hand into her pocket, pulling out a tiny flash of silver for him to see.    
'A key?’  
'The spare one to my apartment.’ Samar nodded. 'I figured it was about time. You spend enough time at my place now, it seems silly to have to keep letting you in.’ It was a struggle for Aram not to start chuckling, and he quickly dug into his own pocket… And finally, it was Samar’s turn to waver –albeit just for a split second- in confusion of her own. 'What?’ She asked. Her eyes narrowed in a cross between suspicion and amusement, but Aram only grinned more so.

'I  _may_  have had the same idea in mind when I specifically made the rule that we couldn’t  _buy_  presents,’ he admitted. From his pocket, he pulled out a key of his own for her to see. In an instant, Samar clasped a hand over her mouth –but not before the laugh managed to escape her.    
'You may have, huh?’ She slipped the key from his hand, swapping it with hers and then tracing the edges of those tiny grooves with her fingertips. A second later again, and it was looped onto the keychain with the rest of her keys and set back into her pocket.    
'Mmhmm,’ Aram hummed. He reached forwards, gently brushing those loose strands of hair out of her face and tucking them behind her ear. She smiled softly up at him and he smiled back, tipping his head to kiss her again as he murmured; 'happy Valentine’s Day.’  


	23. Request fic: "Protector Samar" -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/166595431281/casually-drops-this-here-you-should-write-a).
> 
> Prompt: "You should write a Saram fic where someone has Aram and Samar is Pissed and says “don’t touch him” all angry and low and dangerous." (non specific timeline, established Saram)

'Ah,' Samar groaned under her breath in annoyance at herself. 'I left my jacket on the seat.' Aram did a double take, suddenly noticing that the jacket she had walked into the restaurant with, was no longer draped over her arm now that they were walking down the street to the car to return home. He turned on one foot, ready to follow her back inside and pick it up, but Samar stopped him. 'I'll go,' she said quickly, offering him a grin of mock exasperation at herself. 'I'll meet you back at the front.'   
'You sure?' Aram asked. He glanced back up the street, eyeing the door to the restaurant that was only a few down the block, but Samar nodded. The street was well lit, and full of people, plus it wasn't far. She could duck in and out again with her jacket, and by that point Aram could be just about driving past in the car. 'Ok,' Aram murmured again, nodding his agreement to the plan. He tilted his head, dotting a quick kiss to Samar's cheek, and noting her hand slipping softly from his before she darted back towards the restaurant.  

Aram rounded the corner that was barely three steps ahead of that point, taking the shortcut through the alley between that block and the next, towards where they had parked the car a street over.  

It had been easily one of the best nights out that they'd had in a while; not too fancy –all attempts at booking nicer restaurants had constantly gone flying out of the window with their unpredictable caseload- but not so casual that it felt like he never had the opportunity to spoil her for once either. The restaurant they had chosen was somewhere in the middle; far nicer than the usual pizza or other takeout places, but one that still allowed people to walk in and still easily find a seat at whatever time they managed to get there after work. They had never been there before, but already Aram was making a mental note that they needed to go back there again another time.  

'Hand them over,' a particularly sharp voice jolted Aram's attention away from his absentminded musings, and instantly back to the alleyway he was in the middle of. He froze, eyes wide and wary at the man in standing front of him, brandishing a particularly sharp and jagged looking knife. 'Keys, wallet, phone, watch,  _aallll_  the usual fun stuff,' the man ordered.    
'Uh,' Aram hesitated. In the back of his mind he was already cursing himself for choosing to take the shortcut through the alleyway. 'You know-' he shuffled on his feet, eyeing the gap between them '-you really don't want to do this.' The gap wasn't big enough to turn and run from the knife without the man reaching out and grabbing him to stop him first. Not to mention, if he tried to yell, the knife would probably stop him before he even managed to let out two words. Aram was frozen; he couldn't exactly hand over his encrypted, Bureau taskforce issued phone –let alone everything else- but there was no way out either.    
'Oh, don’t I?' The man sneered, 'you don't exactly look like you're going to fight me.'  
'Me? No,' Aram hurriedly began to stammer back, 'but uh, my girlfriend is waiting for me right around the corner, and she probably would fight you.'  
'Your girlfriend?' The man rolled his eyes, moving that jagged knife ever so slightly closer. 'I doubt that. What is she, some kind of Wonder Woman?'  
'Something like that...' Aram winced, still eyeing that knife that was far too close for comfort. If only he could manage to stall without either handing anything over or angering the man enough to earn himself what would undoubtedly be a particularly nasty stab wound maybe, just  _maybe,_  Samar would grow curious about the delay and come looking for him.    
'Well I don't see no star spangled skirt or golden lasso-' with his free hand, the man grabbed the front of Aram's shirt, pulling him in so close that the top of the knife began to point into his gut '-so hand them over before I knife you somewhere painful.'

A breath caught in Aram's throat. That knife was now painfully close to his liver, or his kidneys, or  _something_  that he was  _very_  sure did not need a knife lodged in it.  

'Don't you dare touch him,' the almost hauntingly familiar voice made Aram instinctively release the breath he had bene holding. That was Samar's voice, but it wasn't her usual one. It was angry, and the words uttered slowly in that low, dangerous tone reserved almost exclusively for the worst of the criminals she had to deal with on a daily basis.  

'This the girlfriend?' The man scoffed. He glanced Samar up and down, pushing the knife just a little further into Aram's gut until it began to graze the edge of his skin. 'Well sweetheart, I guess we can add that necklace of yours to the list of things I’m going to score tonight.'  
'Oh, that's not a good idea...' Aram was pretty sure he was shaking as he spoke. Out of the corner of his eye he noted Samar slowly, carefully closing the gap between them, and drawing her weapon. She stayed far back enough that the mugger was nowhere near likely to reach her, but well and truly close enough that if he even tried to lunge for her, there was absolutely no way her shot would miss.  

'Shut up, you skinny ass suit,' the man hissed. He gave a hard shake of the bunched up fabric of Aram's shirt held tightly in his hand just to emphasise his point. All the while, he stared back at Samar with leering eyes that seemed all too disbelieving that the slim built woman in front of him was any kind of threat. 'Give me your best shot, sweethea-' Aram winced at the sound of a shot ringing out before he even saw the bullet whizz dangerously close past him, and even closer past the mugger's ear, before landing expertly in an apple core sitting atop the trash pile behind them both. 'Whoah, ok, ok,' the man yelped and jumped all at once –but it was the sudden, tiny gap that appeared between the knife and his belly that Aram noticed first. Still, it pointed far too close for comfort, but at least now he could  _breathe_  without accidentally impaling himself. The man's grip on his shirt began to loosen too, with his eyes now fixed on Samar with a far more realistic hint of fear.  

'He warned you,' still Samar's voice was low, and her eyes narrowed and calculating. She tilted her head, gesturing to the bullet lodged firmly in the centre of the apple core that now rolled warningly around the man's feet. 'Let him go, or you get the next one.'  
'Hey, hey, you can't do that,' he man protested, albeit weakly, 'that's police brutality.' Samar simply rolled her eyes.    
_'Technically,_  it's only police brutality if you didn't already assault one federal agent before she drew her weapon, and then continue to threaten both of us after she ordered you to stop,' Aram hurriedly interjected before she could respond. The man hesitated, glancing back and forth between them as the cogs seemed to turn over and over in his brain. His gaze met Samar's, flinching at that fierce, no-nonsense expression that Aram had seen melt scarier villains in the interrogation room multiple times over. Finally, he seemed to figure out that he longer held the power; he let go of Aram's shirt –making Aram practically jump backwards away from him- and he raised both hands in surrender, dropping the knife to the alleyway's filthy concrete floor.  

'I'll take that,' Samar muttered, plucking the knife from the ground the instant it slid across towards her, 'and this, too-' still with her weapon pointed at him in one hand, she used her other hand to pull the mugger's wallet from his torn jacket pocket and hand the driver's license out to Aram behind her so that he could call it in '-and now you can sit your ass down while you wait for Metro PD to get here.' The man grumbled to himself in annoyance, but otherwise made no protest as Samar pulled his hands behind his back, cuffed them –tightly- and then forced him onto the ground. She stood, narrowing her eyes at him for a moment longer before deciding that it was unlikely he would try to escape if she remained standing close, but otherwise leaving him to contemplate the jail cell he was about the spend the rest of his night in.  

Finally she turned her head, glancing back to Aram. She could already hear the Metro PD sirens in the distance, and he had stopped shaking at last. Now that he wasn't under immediate threat of being stabbed, he seemed surprisingly calm. She reached across the small gap between them, slipping her fingers around his and giving them a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

'How do you seem so unfazed?' She asked softly. Aram shrugged, shaking his head. Maybe unfazed wasn't the right descriptor; he had been worried for his life –albeit for only a couple of minutes- but it was all over now.  
'I knew you'd find me,' he murmured back. Aram broke into a tiny smile; some men felt threatened or powerless with women as strong and fierce as Samar, but not Aram. Not only was he quite comfortable with their relationship exactly as it was, but... If anything, he was even  _proud_  of her skills. And as scared as he had been with that knife poking into his gut, he'd had faith too, trusting that she would be there, and that he would be ok. Aram wound his arms around her, pulling her in close and dotting a kiss to the top of her head as the first of the Metro PD responders rushed into the alleyway behind them; 'though maybe for our next night out, we could aim for something a little less eventful?'   
'You can't start planning the next night out already,' Samar chuckled quietly, breaking into a wry smile. She leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to his lips as she whispered; 'this one's not over yet.'


	24. Wish Fic 7: "Valentine's Day" -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/170869763836/i-wish-you-would-write-a-fic-where-aram-samar).
> 
> Prompt: "I wish you would write a fic where Aram & Samar share a cuddle (it's almost Valentine's day!)" (non specific timeline, Saram)

One eye cracked open and Samar let out a yawn mixed with a groan. She squashed her face back into the pillow for a moment, trying to block out the light of the sunrise streaming in through the crack in the curtains, but it was no use. Once she was awake in the morning, that was it; Samar was rarely one to manage to fall asleep again once daylight rolled around again. With a sigh she fumbled through the bedcovers, reaching across the bed for Aram… Except he wasn’t there.

Samar’s second eye cracked open and her head rose from the pillow, _just_  enough to glance across the bed and furrow her brow in confusion at his absence.  

That was unusual. Normally she woke up before he did.  

Half-heartedly stifling the next yawn with the back of one hand, Samar kicked back the bedcovers and slowly clambered out of bed. It was only as she ambled out of the bedroom, rounding the corner into and then down the hallway that she heard it; the sounds of the coffee machine whirring and Aram humming to himself high and fast, as he often did when hurriedly juggling too many tasks at once. Samar’s eyes went wide as she took the next stop forward and paused in the doorway to the living room and kitchen area; there Aram was, scuttling around the kitchen and pulling what looked like breakfast ingredients out of various cupboards with one hand, while simultaneously trying to fix up an arrangement of fresh roses in a vase with the other hand.  

There were already candles arranged in the centre of the small dining table, with the living room candles drawn closed so that only those flickering flames filled the room with a soft, warm light. There was a tray set up on the counter with a smaller vase with just one rose in it, and plates beside it awaiting whatever it was that Aram was cooking.  

Samar winced as she panned her gaze around the room, taking it all in.  

It was Valentine’s Day, and she had stuck to their deal of keeping the day low key. Aram it seemed, on the other hand, had not.  

Aram froze the second he happened to turn on the spot, catching a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of her standing there.

_‘Samar,’_   he gasped, blinking even faster again than the cogs in his brain were madly turning at the sight of her standing there, 'why-’ Aram cut himself off, shaking his head '-uh, you woke up earlier tha-’  
'-What are you doing?’ She asked, gently interjecting. Aram blinked, brain still racing at a pace that couldn’t quite keep up with his mouth.  
'It’s Valentine’s Day…’ He finally trailed off, shuffling sheepishly on his feet, 'I wanted to surprise you.’ Samar broke into a wry smile.  
'Well, I’m surprised,’ she chuckled drolly.  
'It’s not all ready yet,’ Aram said quickly. The urgency slowly rose again in his voice, his hands already starting to gesture for her to go back to bed without him even realising he was doing it; 'I was going to start with bringing you coffee, and then-’

'-Is the coffee ready?’ Aram could only blink again at her question that was all at once soft, and still to the point. The sleepy smile on Samar’s face widened and her eyes crinkled with amusement; Aram was still in his pajama bottoms, and his hair was sleep mussed and sticking out in a half dozen different directions. His focus had been entirely on decorating and making her breakfast as fast as possible before she woke up, and even his still sleepy brain couldn’t quite keep up with the idea of now needing to adjust his plans.  
'Uh,’ he began, turning to glance quickly at the flashing light on the machine behind him announcing that yes, it was ready to pour Samar’s caffeinated elixir of life into her favourite mug; 'yeah.’  
'Then one thing at a time,’ Samar murmured back. She reached out with one hand, gesturing for him to come back to bed with her; 'come on.’

It took Aram a second for it to register in his brain what Samar meant, before quickly pouring the two mugs of coffee and carrying one in each hand as he scuttled across the room after her.  

By the time he caught up and rounded the corner back into the bedroom, she was already clambering back into bed.

One coffee cup went on each nightstand either side of the bed, and Aram crawled in under the covers next to her. In an instant, Samar was curling into his side, tucking her head against his chest and pulling the covers back up to her chin. She let out a deep sigh of contentment and allowed her eyes to fall softly closed again as Aram wrapped both arms around her, both of them settling there quiet and still.  

That was all she wanted. Pretty candles and delicious breakfasts would always be nice, but they were simply a glorious, added bonus. At the end of it all, so long as she had Aram there and close, that was all the Valentine’s Day festivity she needed.  


	25. Wish Fic 5: "Saram Stuck at an Airport" -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/170896248436/you-should-write-a-story-where-saram-plan-to-go-on).
> 
> Prompt: "you should write a story where saram plan to go on a trip but during a layover their connecting flight gets cancelled so they are stuck in the airport" (non specific timeline, Saram)

‘I hate layovers,’ Aram grumbled under his breath, for what felt like the umpteenth time in the last hour, 'the sitting around in the uncomfortable chairs for hours on end with nothing to do…’ He trailed off, letting out a sigh, and Samar raised a wry eyebrow. She sat beside him in another of those uncomfortably hard, plastic seats at their airport gate, waiting to board their last flight home from what  _had_  been a glorious long weekend away, free to simply enjoy each other’s company and a change in scenery, without worrying about case work. With their unpredictable schedule leaving them little notice of confirmed free time for a weekend away, they had missed out on being able to book a direct flight home to DC, and so there they sat… Stuck on a layover at JFK. It seemed so silly; there in New York City they were so close to home and yet, so far. JFK was the sort of hub that Reagan airport was not, and so they were stuck with that layover in all of its four and a half hour glory.

Well,  _more_  than four and a half hours now.  

Adding to their last minute booking woes was the wild weather that had greeted New York City just before they had. It had initially made for a bumpy landing into their layover, but as the howling wind and rain picked up outside, so too was their flight delayed in the hope of a less bumpy exit.  

And Aram wasn’t coping. Normally he had all the patience in the world, but apparently extended airport layovers were one of the rare things that could get on his nerves. The longer they had been stuck sitting there –nearly three hours now- the more agitated he had become. He hadn’t even brought his laptop with him for once, citing the desire to spend their long weekend focusing on spending time with her and forcing himself to take that short break from anything tech besides his phone.  

Samar had thought it was sweet when they were packing, but now she was regretting it. It wasn’t as if he was driving her completely crazy, or even being overly cranky for that matter, but the overwhelming boredom was seriously nagging at him. Having his laptop there would have at least given him something to do, even if it was an extra annoyance when going through airport security.

'This is nearly as bad as when you haven’t had enough sleep,’ she drolly replied. Her lip twitched with a hint of a smirk as she eyed him sitting there with his head resting in his hands out of sheer frustration.    
'Sorry,’ Aram murmured back, lifting his head from his hands to shoot her an apologetic grimace. He watched her sitting there for a moment staring back at him. If she was as frustrated as he was, it didn’t show anywhere near as much; she seemed tired, sure, but she sat there absentmindedly alternating between staring at him and her phone with a surprising air of relative calm. 'How is this not driving you crazy?’ He asked.  

'I’m used to layovers,’ Samar mused, giving a nonchalant shrug, 'after a while, they just don’t-’ her sentence was cut off by yet another of the airline announcements telling them that their flight was still delayed, and Aram sighing again in frustrated response. What Samar had meant to say was that after travelling all over the world working for Mossad, she’d had far worse layovers in far more dismal airports, but with the continued delays still getting on Aram’s nerves, it was time to cut to the chase. 'Ok, I think I need to introduce you to a little game that my Mossad team used to play when we were stuck with long layovers,’ she chuckled softly. Aram raised a single, curious eyebrow as she spoke; 'you go through every last store in the airport, looking for the most ridiculous book, or shirt, or tourist trinket that you can possibly find… And whoever’s item gets the most groans from the group by the time they call boarding, wins.’

Aram simply stared back at her for a second, completely at a loss for how to respond.  

The whole idea itself sounded ridiculous, as did the idea of a whole team of otherwise serious Mossad agents trying to entertain themselves that way, but then again… As Aram himself was quickly discovering, one could resort to just about anything when trying to fight off the airport layover boredom.  

'There’s only two of us,’ he objected, albeit only half-heartedly.  
'We’ll manage.’ Samar broke into a grin as she rose from her seat and slung her backpack back over her shoulder, all the while gesturing for Aram to follow suit; 'come on.’

/*/*/*/*

It took nearly forty minutes, but Aram was adamant he had found the most ridiculous possible trinket in the airport. Now he paced back and forth just beside their gate, waiting for Samar to return with her own discovered novelty. Barely a moment later, and she appeared in the crowd of people ahead of him, a mischievous grin spread wide across her face from ear to ear. Aram faltered for a second at the sight of it; Samar’s mischief seemed all too confident. Aram wondered what on earth she could have found.

'What have you got?’ He asked, shooting a wary look in the direction of the small, paper shopping bag dangling from her fingertips. Samar’s grin only grew wider.  
'You first,’ she quipped back. Aram hesitated, though he couldn’t help but grin as he dug into his own paper shopping bag and pulled out his purchase. It was a water bottle, shaped to resemble the Statue of Liberty once a straw-style mouthpiece popped out to complete the torch in the raised hand. And, just in case anybody drinking out of it couldn’t remember where it came from, the statue’s dress was emblazoned with that cliched logo stating 'I ♥ NY’. Samar’s eyes widened, both impressed by the find and horrified at its tackiness. As far as the criteria for tacky tourist souvenirs went, Aram had hit the nail on the head.  

'That is truly ridiculous,’ she laughed, clasping one hand over her mouth, 'how do you even fill it up?’ Aram shook his head in sheer amused disbelief; he had no idea. That was precisely part of why he had thought it was so ridiculous; he had spent a solid five minute turning that water bottle over and over in his hands, trying to figure out where any kind of lid was that one could remove to fill it, but he hadn’t been able to find one. Short of trickling water slowly in through the flip-open torch straw, it was a water bottle that one would never be able to drink out of simply because it could never actually be filled.

Aram assumed there had to be some kind of catch somewhere that enabled it to be filled, he just hadn’t figured out what it was yet.

And until then, it only added to the ridiculousness.  

He grinned as Samar let out another snort of laughter, both pleased with himself and suddenly seeing what the appeal was in her ridiculous game.  

'Well, I think you win,’ she spoke up again, her words still interspersed with laughs, 'but I still want to see you try on these.’ Aram’s amused expression sobered in an instant, as Samar dug into her own bag and pulled out what she had found.

It was a pair of men’s pajama bottoms, fluro purple in colour, and dotted  _all_  over with miniature versions of the same cliched logo.  

Aram hurriedly shook his head, torn somewhere between amused disbelief and being utterly mortified, as Samar gleefully held them up for him to see.   
'I think they’ll fit,’ she observed, all too matter of factly for Aram’s taste. Her eyes crinkled with that fiendish amusement, and she glanced him up and down, comparing those fluro, cotton pants to him for size.  
'Those are  _hideous,’_  Aram gasped and yet somehow, despite the fact that she was brandishing the most hideously fluorescent pajama bottoms he had ever seen, in front of his face in the middle of a huge public place, he couldn’t help but laugh.  

They were ghastly but then again, that was the whole point.  

At last, Samar tucked the pants back into her shopping bag, so that the faint pink flush of embarrassment in Aram’s cheeks could begin to fade, but still his grin remained plastered all over his face.  

…Or rather, the grin remained plastered there for all of a second longer, until yet another of those airport announcements that he hated so much began to sound once again, this time telling them that their flight was no longer delayed due to the weather, but cancelled all together.  

'Well, it was fun while it lasted,’ Samar sighed. Aram faltered for a second as he processed the idea, but then his lip quirked up again.  
'At least now we get to wait somewhere more comfortable than the gate seating,’ he mused. Their new flight would have to wait until after the storm passed, not to mention the multiple planeloads of other passengers whose new flights would all have to be put off as well. All in all, they were set for a long enough wait that the airline would have to put them up in a hotel for at least one night.

And there were certainly worse places on earth to spend an extra, free night of vacation.  

Samar simply flourished that paper shopping bag of hers in his face again, as they both listened to the next announcement telling them where to go next. She grinned as they began to walk towards the airline desk, breaking into another grin and whispering in conspiratorial amusement when Aram’s eyes remained warily on the bag full of hideous pajamas;  
'And now you get to try these on.’


	26. Quote Prompts 91 & 53 -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/170933489846/amazing-so-n-91-and-n-53-for-saram-please), Quote Prompts list [here](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/165599970611/writing-prompts).
> 
> Prompt 91: “Can I hold your hand?" and Prompt 53: “I’m flirting with you.” (Written with non timeline specific, established Saram)

It wasn’t how Aram normally started a new relationship; a passionate kiss in the middle of the war room followed by an impromptu night together and then all of a sudden, falling into the swing of domestic bliss as if they had been doing it all along. Aram was used to awkward first dates with even more awkward small talk, so what he had now all of a sudden with Samar felt strange.

Though at least, it was a pleasant kind of strange.

And if Samar was in any way fazed by it as he was, it certainly didn’t show on her face.

Aram supposed that was the benefit of falling in love with someone who had been a close friend for so long. They already knew each other. They knew each other’s good habits and bad habits, strengths and weaknesses, and they had been to each other’s apartments enough times to be able to comfortably pour themselves a glass of water without feeling like a guest in need of a host.  

They had completely skipped over the awkward first date chapter and if anything, Aram was kind of relieved.

Though at the same time, he had wanted to take Samar out for dinner somewhere nice, to spoil her for the evening and perhaps follow it with a stroll under the twinkling stars. It seemed such a movie cliche and yet, still ticked off so many of the romantic checkboxes Aram loved.

Just because they had fallen into the swing of things so easily, didn’t mean they had to deprive themselves of romantic nights out.

And so there they were.

Aram felt a little overwhelmed, and completely unable to wipe the smile from his face as they strolled down the street from the restaurant. The stars did indeed twinkle in the cloudless night sky overhead and that, combined with the atmosphere in the street filled with other happy diners and smooth jazz from a street musician, had Aram in a blissful daze. Samar was by his side. Smiling and completely ease in her more relaxed, off the clock state, and that only made Aram’s smile widen all the more. He had always thought she was beautiful but now, with her hair down and tumbling around her shoulders that were free of field work tension, and with her eyes crinkled joyfully as she smiled and laughed, she was even more stunning than Aram would have thought possible.  

Not a bad first  _real_  date at all, if he was being honest with himself.  

‘Aram,’ Samar chuckled, softly drawing Aram out of his internal musings; 'you’re staring at me.’ Aram blinked, breaking into a sheepish, apologetic smile. He had been so caught up in revelling in how nice it was to be strolling along with her, that he had missing hearing everything she had just said.    
'Right, sorry,’ he quickly replied, prompting a small smirk to tug at the corners of Samar’s lips. She shook her head in amusement for a second, before starting to walk along beside him again, but Aram was all too focused on his next dilemma. He knew she preferred to be more discreet with physical affection in public, but while they were there, walking side by side in their bliss, it was a struggle to resist the urge to reach out and grasp her hand in his.  

Aram rolled his eyes at himself, figuring that it was probably easier just to ask her.

'Samar,’ he spoke up again. She glanced sideways, a single, curious eyebrow quirking up. 'Can I, uh, hold your hand?’ Within a second of the question leaving his lips, Aram was berating himself inside for how silly it sounded, but Samar simply chuckled to herself again before leaning in and dotting a slow, soft kiss to his cheek.    
'You’ve done plenty more than that already,’ she whispered, waggling her eyebrows and lingering there close for a second. A breath caught in Aram’s throat as she pulled away again and then promptly intertwined her fingers with his. 'Aram,’ she chortled, when he somehow couldn’t respond with anything found in a dictionary; 'I’m flirting with you.’  
'Right,’ he finally murmured back, wincing at himself. It would be the perfect date if only he could manage to pull himself together instead of being all caught up in the moment; 'of course.’

Samar shook her head, chuckling again, but still kept moving. Her gaze panned across the street and in an instant, her eyes widened and another gleeful smile broke out across her face. She turned on the spot, facing him again.  

'Do you have stomach space left for ice cream?’ She mused, gesturing at the ice cream place just a few store fronts further down. Aram paused, hesitating before responding as he wondered whether that was some kind of horrible trick question, before finally breaking into a grin of his own.  
'Is there any acceptable answer other than yes?’ He replied drolly. Samar slid one arm over each of his shoulders, linking her hands behind his neck to pull him in close and press another, blissful kiss to his lips as she replied;    
'Good to know we’re on the same page.’


	27. Drabble Prompts 55 & 31 -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/171075474726/n-55-for-saram-and-of-course-n-31-for-saram-too), Drabble Prompts list [here](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/171034536831/drabble-list-2).
> 
> Prompt 55: “Just smile. I really need you to smile right now” and Prompt 31: “Can I kiss you?” (Written with non timeline specific, established Saram)

Aram hurried down the Emergency Room corridor as fast as he could without his brisk walk being redefined as a run. Samar was alive –her injury wasn’t even life threatening, for that matter- but that was beside the point. Their latest Blacklister had caught them by surprise from a hidden passage when the team had raided his hideout to arrest him, and it was Samar who had wound up stuck in the close up brawl, tackled from behind and forced to fight back. Aram had heard the fight on the comms with little other commentary on what was happening… And then the comms had gone quiet for the single minute that felt like a hundred, until he had heard Ressler and Liz’s voices observing Samar’s injury and Samar herself protesting that she was fine.  

So now there he was, hurrying towards where he knew she was in the ER. Liz in particular had commented that the knife scrape down Samar’s arm was quite impressive, while Samar had insisted over the phone that the exact opposite was true. Needless to say, Aram wasn’t sure what to expect, but as he reached for the edge of the curtain around her bay, the anxiety remained bubbling up inside.  

‘Samar,’ he gasped. The second he saw her, he lurched forwards, his stomach twisting into all kinds of uncomfortable knots. She was sitting up on the edge of the hospital bed –having already fought the idea of resting back on it properly- as the nurse tending to her cleaned the long cut down her arm, ready to stitch it up. Her hair was windswept with a few patches still damp with sweat from the fight, and her face was a little pale. Between that and the trail of equally damp blood splattered all the way down her torn sleeve and the side of her shirt, Aram could only imagine how much it hurt.    
'Before you start,’ Samar quickly tried to interject through gritted teeth, before he could say anything at all that would even vaguely constitute making a fuss; 'I’m fine.’ Samar couldn’t help but wince as the first stitch pierced her skin, but she held up her other hand in a calming gesture all the same. Aram faltered for a split second, eyes flickering back and forth between the wound on her arm and the expression of forced calm on her face.  

 _'Fine?’_   He exclaimed, his voice rising higher in pitch with every extra second of anxiety; 'the guy tried to  _kill_  you.’  
'It’s just a graze.’ Samar forced her voice to remain steady, but Aram barely heard her. His eyes, focused on her arm, showed his mind wandering miles away. 'Can you please stop looking at me like that?’  
'Huh?’ Aram blinked, too busy still being distracted by the scrape for a moment to realise just how anxious he must have looked. Samar shook her head with the tiniest hint of exasperation.    
'Just smile,’ she said, softer this time. 'I really need you to just smile right now. Or at least-’ she winced again, tapping the space on the bed next to her ’-sit down.’

Aram hesitated for a second, then did as instructed, quietly sitting down beside her on the side not occupied by the nurse. No matter how insistent Samar was that she was fine, she was in pain and Aram knew it… And when Samar was hurting, all he wanted to do was fuss, hold her close, or  _anything_ really, to make comfort her and make her feel better.

Which in turn, was everything Samar  _didn’t_  want him to do… Not right now, anyway. For her it was instinct to remain stoic and hold herself together by shutting down anyone trying to make a fuss, and that went flying in the face of Aram’s natural inclination to do the exact opposite.

Aram’s shoulders remained just as tensed as hers as his eyes locked warily on that sliver of silver flashing back and forth over Samar’s other arm, but he kept his mouth shut. Samar’s free hand gripped his, tightening with each stitch and then releasing again. In truth, despite having already been given painkillers in the ambulance on the way there, the pain still seared through her arm, feeling just as the knife had when it struck her, but Samar held up that expression of calm, knowing that it looked and felt worse than it really was. No tears watered in her eyes or rolled down her face, and the only sound that escaped her was the involuntary sucking in of air between her teeth as she gripped Aram’s hand. It was easier for her that way; as far as Samar was concerned, breaking down in response to the pain might have been understandable to those around her but in reality it only made her feel worse, and Aram blustering in with wild, anxious eyes and wringing hands did little to help.  

And so she sat there quietly, waiting for it all to be over and Aram, thankfully, followed suit.  

The few, silent minutes of stitches felt like an eternity, but as soon as that last stitch was tied off and the nurse left them behind for a moment, Samar tilted her head to rest it on Aram’s shoulder. At last, it was over… And at last, she could relax. In an instant, as soon as her head found that comfortable spot, she felt Aram’s arm slip around her, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against the small of her back.  

For all the stoic, forced calm, he knew she was hurting.  

In the moment, she needed the calm for both their sakes but likewise, in the aftermath, Aram needed the reassurance of being able to comfort her somehow.  

Aram tilted his own head, resting it upon Samar’s and burying his face into her hair as she sank into his side further still.  

'Now can I kiss you?’ He murmured. The words were muffled against her hair, but Samar still understood. Her eyes crinkled with amusement and relief against his shoulder  
'I’m still fine,’ she chuckled back, 'but yes.’


	28. Drabble Prompts 26, 57 & 60 -Keenler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/171115091821/keenler-26-57-andor-60), Drabble Prompts list [here](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/171034536831/drabble-list-2).
> 
> Prompt 26: “You’re the one thing keeping me sane right now,” Prompt 57: "I miss the way things used to be," and Prompt 60: “Can we just pretend like we’re normal for once?” (Written with non timeline specific, established Keenler)

Another long day at the Post Office, another day chasing after Reddington’s leads, and another day dealing with the aftermath of higher ups wanting to know what on earth his agenda really was.  

Sometimes it felt like a cycle on repeat, like it would never end.  

Ressler tapped soft knuckles against Liz’s office door, his free hand absent-mindedly and contemplatively running over his hair. A second later and he pushed the door open, shooting a weary smile in the direction of the woman sitting –just as wearily- in the chair behind the desk in front of him.  

The woman who was not just his partner in the field and his best friend, but the woman who was the love of his life.  

She smiled back, exhausted after the long day but pleased to see him there all the same, especially as he held up his file of half-written case reports for the day. That had become their routine these days; if their busy caseload was going to get in the way of their precious little personal time together, Liz had figured they may as well do their reports at the end of the day together, rather than in their individual, but equally dim and disheartening offices that were only separated by a paper thin wall anyway.  

In an instant, Liz cleared a space for him, pushing aside a tray and one of the piles of seemingly endless pages on her desk.  

Ressler took those few steps further into the office, allowing her door to fall softly closed behind him as he leaned over her desk for a moment. His files dropped unceremoniously onto the desk and Liz tilted her head to gaze up at him. Her eyes crinkled in contentment as Ressler leaned in, resting a gentle hand along her cheek and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. He lingered there for a moment, wishing he could simply stand there, lost in those dark waves and deep blue eyes of hers forever, but knowing that he couldn’t.  

He let out a sigh as he pulled away and sunk into the chair opposite her. The reports weren’t going to write themselves, after all.  

There was still a wry smile on Liz’s face though, as Ressler tentatively reached for the first of his files again. He eyed her warily, brow furrowed in curiosity as she pulled open her desk drawer and pulled out not a file or any particular piece of stationery, but a Snickers bar, waving it in front of him. In an instant, Ressler broke into a grin. That was another of their more subtle ways of sharing their affection whilst stuck in the professional setting; Liz kept a secret stash of his favourite candy bars, and any time she knew he’d had a rough day, especially one that involved the difficult higher ups hassling him, she broke one out to make him feel better.  

Of course, a second later and Ressler would snap it in two, sharing it with her, but that was beside the point.  

‘Is  _that_   where you’ve been hiding them?’ He chortled, eyeing the still open-drawer as Liz handed it over.    
‘Maybe,’ Liz mused in response, waggling her eyebrows; 'I thought you might need one after today.’  
'Thanks,’ Ressler murmured back. He tore open the edge of the wrapper, slipping the bar out and as always, instantly snapping it in two. His grin softened. 

No words were needed as held Liz’s gaze and handed one half back to her. It was the littlest things like that, that instantly faded away all the stresses of a long day, and he loved her deeply for it. Ressler let out another sigh –this time one of relief and contentment- as he took his first bite. 'You’re the one thing keeping me sane right now,’ he spoke again, softer this time. His gaze was once again back on the file in front of him but those few quiet words, echoing in the otherwise silent office, were clearly for Liz. She glanced up from her own file, her gaze pausing for a second over her chunk of Snickers bar, before staring back at him contemplatively.    
'I miss the way things used to be,’ she wistfully sighed back. Ressler gave a slow, thoughtful nod. He knew exactly what she meant.  

For him it was the unshaken belief in that exact line between what was wrong and what was right, that now seemed so blurred. Back then it had been easier to see and easier to know what to do when everything fell into those two simple categories, but now everything seemed so much more complicated.  

For her it was, well, everything. The life she had once expected to lead now seemed a pipe dream, and everything that she had once thought about who she was, was now screaming its once secret truth.

For both of them life had been so much simpler then, before Reddington came into their lives and tipped everything upside down.  

Perhaps in some ways, things had changed for the better… But at what cost?  

Silence fell between them again, this time for a little while longer. Even the sound of pages turning and files shuffling on desk seemed deafening in that quiet office as both of them, half-heartedly, tried to work their way through the piles.  

'Can we just  _pretend_  like we’re normal for once?’ Liz suddenly huffed, breaking the silence. She flipped the cover of her file closed in annoyance.  
'You mean,’ Ressler began. A tiny, amused smile began to tug at the corners of his lips; 'a normal couple, enjoying a quiet dinner together at home, asking each other 'how was your day, sweetheart?’ and things like that?’ Ressler chuckled softly to himself at that very visual that instantly came to mind. Somehow, he doubted that they would ever truly be that normal… Though, that didn’t stop him from hoping.    
'Yeah… That sounds nice right about now.’  
'It would mean getting out of here sooner rather than later.’ Liz bowed her head for a moment, once again giving in to the stack of pages still in front of her, and knowing it probably wasn’t going to happen… But Ressler had other ideas. 'You know what?’ He spoke again. Determination crept into his voice again and he tossed his file back onto the desk with notable gusto. 'I think this paperwork can wait until tomorrow.’ He rose to his feet, leaning over the desk and gently tugging Liz’s file from her hands to dump that back on the desk too.  

It certainly wasn’t going to kill anyone if for once in their lives, they left the paperwork for an otherwise already closed case waiting for one more day. They needed to take some time for themselves too.  

Liz glanced up curiously, breaking into a wide smile as Ressler held open the door, gesturing for her to lead the way through. The war room seemed even quieter as they crossed towards the elevator. The few people left who hadn’t already given up and gone home was doing as they had been earlier; quietly and frustratedly still toiling over their own files.

Ressler discreetly wrapped one arm around Liz’s back while they waited for those rumbling elevator doors to open.  

'Want to stop by Wing Yee’s on the way home?’ He murmured to her. Liz’s face lit up with that wide, twinkling eyed smile that he loved so much. A rumble echoed from the stomach as if trying to answer the question for her, but she nodded all the same.  

'So,’ she began drolly, stepping into the elevator beside him, and then shooting him a mischievous grin; 'how was your day, sweetheart?’


	29. Drabble Prompt 27 -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/171615286361/n-27-saram-please), Drabble Prompts list [here](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/171034536831/drabble-list-2).
> 
> Prompt 27: “Please stay with me” (Written with non timeline specific, established Saram)

Samar looked more miserable than Aram had ever seen her before. Curled up in a tight ball in their bed, buried under a mountain of blankets and _still_   letting out the occasional shiver, she tried to fall asleep but couldn’t. Even with the curtains pulled tight shut to block out the light, Samar’s body clock was fighting her will to sleep and in turn, to give her some semblance of relief from the nasty bout of flu going around the Post Office that had chosen her as its next target.  

She was freezing, her muscles ached all over, her stomach was heaving, and to add insult to injury, her brain was raring to go despite her body failing to keep up.  

She was stuck at home in bed instead of being at work, and she was bored out of her mind.  

Even when Samar had been shot in the abdomen during one of her earliest cases with the task force, Aram could swear she didn’t look as miserable when she woke up in the hospital bed as she did now. After four days of feeling utterly awful, her usual stoicism had flown far out the window.

Aram crept into the bedroom as quietly as possible. She had asked him to make her a cup of tea just five minutes earlier, but now her eyes were closed. Careful not to make a sound, he set the steaming mug on the night stand beside her and then turned to move away… But then he paused, watching her. He reached out with one hand, gently brushing the hair back off Samar’s face and then tracing them tenderly along her cheek.  

‘Hey,’ Samar’s quiet voice suddenly cracked through the silence. A small smile tugged at her lips and she pulled her hand from under the covers, resting it atop his and holding his fingers there.    
'I thought you were finally asleep,’ Aram murmured softly back 'I brought your tea-’ despite the dim lighting of the room he noted her eyes flutter slowly open and dart towards the mug in response ’-how are you feeling?’  
'Cold,’ she sighed. Her fingertips wrapped tighter around his, enjoying their warmth against her cheek; 'please stay with me?'    
'Well,’ Aram began, leaning in to dot a quick kiss to her forehead. 'I was going to leave you like this all by yourself, and go out instead,’ he drolly went on. The tone was teasing, but only gently so as Aram quickly rounded the edge of the bed, climbing in under the covers next to her; 'but I guess I can stay here with you.’

'You choose now as the moment to be sassy with me?’ Samar quietly grumbled, but the tiny smirk of amusement gave it away. There was not a chance on earth that he wouldn’t stay there with her, whether she asked him or not. Aram shuffled over in the bed, closing the gap between them and wrapping his arms around her. In an instant, as he buried his face in her tangled, dark curls, she leaned back against him, letting out a deep sigh of relief as his body warmth slowly soothed her shivers.    
'It’s not like I can get one over you any other time,’ he whispered. The words were muffled against her hair, but Samar understood; 'you’re too good.’ The sleepy smirk on her face only widened, before she let out a yawn.    
'Nice save.’

The tea sending soft spirals of sweet-smelling steam over their heads sat there, left forgotten on the nightstand as Samar’s eyes fell slowly closed at last.  

Hours later they flickered open again for a moment. Samar rolled over, letting out a sleepy smile at the warmth and comfort of arms still draped loosely around her, connecting back to the even warmer body breathing slow with slumber beside her. The tea on the nightstand was long cold by then, but Samar paid it no attention whatsoever.

Aram was still there, and he hadn’t moved a muscle.


	30. Drabble Prompt 5 -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/174169740931/n-5-please-saram-of-course), Drabble Prompts list [here](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/174130374481/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you).
> 
> Prompt 5: “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” (Written with established Saram, set a few weeks after 5x22)

It was  _so_  not the way that Samar wanted to start the day.  

It was her first day back. After everything; her kidnaping, her near death, her hospital stay and her physical recovery it was her first day back in the Post Office, and Samar was desperate to get back to business as usual.  

But it  _wasn’t_  business as usual.  

There was a new agent in the war room; a  _temporary_  agent, on loan from the British MI6 per Reddington’s demands, who was supposedly there to pick up the slack while Samar was away. Her name was Olivia Morris, and Samar had heard more than enough about her from Aram already, but somehow that still didn’t prepare her for the reality of meeting Agent Morris in person.  

Olivia’s record had a list of back to back, high level operations that just about rivalled her own, and well… To call her bright eyed and rosy cheeked barely even began to cover it. Olivia was stunning, and to make things even worse, she had one thing that Samar didn’t.

On top of her skills, her looks, and her sweet and bubbly personality that had half the Post Office seemingly under one collective spell, she also knew computers. Not as well as Aram did, of course, but still far more than the rest of them put together. She understood all of Aram’s tech babble that the rest of them usually cut off, and she easily countered with her own, almost as if the two of them were speaking a completely different language of their own and of which, Samar couldn’t understand a single word.  

The look of awe on Aram’s face every time Olivia even so much as opened her mouth to speak, was unbearable.  

It took everything Samar had to keep that feigned, friendly smile plastered on her face in the name of keeping the peace in the war room, until Olivia was sent out into the field to follow up on a lead in their latest case… But Aram could read between the lines. He watched as Liz, Ressler and Olivia disappeared behind those rumbling elevator doors, and as Samar stood there in front of his desk, back straight and arms crossed, watching them too. While her shoulders remained tense, it lessened ever so slightly as the doors closed in their faces, and she let out the breath she hadn’t even realised she was holding.  

‘Since when do you pass up the opportunity to go out into the field,’ Aram asked. The question was cautious but gentle, in the sort of low voice he always used when trying to sound more casual than he was. Samar turned on the spot, glancing back at him. Aram wasn’t wrong and she knew it; she didn’t need to go with the other –if anything, even three of them going was a little excessive in this instance- but she  _could_  have gone, and she _had_  chosen not to even when she wouldn’t have normally. Aram of course, noticed that immediately, and now Samar gritted her teeth at his curious, almost concerned expression, knowing she was caught.    
'I’m tired, and they can handle it without me,’ she quickly tried to brush off the question, 'I’d probably be more useful helping you sort through all of this.’ Samar gestured quickly at the pile of surveillance photo prints and handwritten witness statements from earlier in the day. That excuse technically wasn’t inaccurate either –her first couple of weeks back  _were_  going to be tiring after what she had been through- but that simply wasn’t all there was to it.  

They held each other’s gazes for a moment. Aram furrowed his brow, puzzled; he knew there was something more to it, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, and desperately wished that Samar would tell him whatever it was that was bothering her… Meanwhile, Samar’s jaw remained clenched, wishing that the whole situation would simply disappear.  

And then Aram’s eyes went wide with realisation.  

'Wait a minute,’ he began, almost startled by the notion, 'are you  _jealous?’_  It had been Olivia that she had been eyeing with the most frustration all day, and now that he had figured that out, everything else suddenly made sense. Samar shifted on her feet, utterly exasperated with the entire turn of events.    
'No,’ she indignantly replied, 'I just have a… Bad gut feeling about her.’ It didn’t matter that Samar had passed her Bureau mandated, post-injury physical to be allowed back in the field. After all the trauma, she was still raw. Coming so close to death, and with the added emotional rollercoaster of everything with Aram before that, there was a certain level of sensitivity that lingered… And Samar hated it. In all honesty, Olivia’s presence was making her uncomfortable. Perhaps it was not jealousy so much as feeling territorial, but between the addition of a new overseas agent to the team on Reddington’s request just as she had once been, and the way said agent seemed to capture Aram’s attention, Samar couldn’t help but feel as if she was no longer needed… As if she was being replaced in every aspect of her role.  

Samar didn’t like it one bit.

She also didn’t like that she didn’t like it, if she was being honest with herself. Samar typically prided herself on being above things like petty jealousy, and on being more confident in her role and who she was… But she had taken that beating, in just about every sense of the word, and she simply couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to keep what was hers for herself –and wanting to cling to it, so it would never not be.  

Aram’s expression softened as he took in the way Samar’s shoulders tensed with discomfort again. The sheer rarity with which she ever showed even the slightest lack of confidence was more than enough to grasp the significance of what was going through her mind. She would never admit it, not even to him, but Aram could figure out more than enough for himself. He bowed his head to refocus his gaze back on his computer.  

'Oh, yeah,’ he murmured back, nodding sagely, 'I overheard some of the guys talking about her in the downstairs gym this morning-’ Aram paused for a second, momentarily at a loss for something to say that was bad enough without being too horrible either ’-apparently she has warts.’ Samar raised a single, unimpressed eyebrow. Just like Aram, she too could read between the lines and she knew exactly what he was trying to do; make her feel better, just as he always did.    
'Warts?  _That’s_  the best you can do?’ She asked drolly. Aram gave an overly nonchalant shrug.    
'If she has warts, she might be evil… Or she might have a weird fascination with toads,’ he mused. Aram blinked, struggling but still determined to keep that air of matter of fact casualness to his voice; 'so either way, I was planning on keeping my distance, don’t worry.'    
'You could have said she was rude or unattractive,’ Samar’s voice was flat in her reply, but one corner of her lip twitched all the same and at last, Aram broke into a grin and he looked up again. At last, Samar’s arms had unfolded, and the tension was loosening from her shoulders again. Deep down, she knew the territorial feeling was irrational, and already Aram was wearing it down.    
'But we both know she’s not,’ he said softly, 'and you would have pointed that out straight away-’ Aram rose from his seat, rounding the edge of his desk, and glancing quickly back over his shoulder to make sure Cooper wasn’t watching before pressing a kiss to Samar’s cheek ’-but how do you know for sure that she doesn’t have warts or that I didn’t overhear other people talking about them?’

Samar rolled her eyes in amused exasperation, pushing him away but only half-heartedly so. Aram lingered there, one hand gently rubbing her back for a moment longer before finally, and wordlessly, looping back around to his desk.  

For all Olivia’s badass skills and her friendliness, she lacked the fiery passion that Samar had. She had no motivation, from what Aram could tell, that had taken her on the journey to her particular job aside from the fact that she thought it was 'cool'… And when it came to all things tech, Olivia understood what they were talking about purely from training, but had no real interest in the subject herself. As far as Aram was concerned, and as nice as Olivia was, she was two-dimensional… And frankly, just plain boring.  

Samar might have been the one to poke fun at him every time he grew overexcited about something, but she also made him laugh too. She kept him on his toes, she had genuine respect for his skills even though she didn’t understand them, and certainly no day spent with Samar could ever have been described as boring. She was captivating in ways that Olivia never could be.  

Aram grinned as he landed back in his seat, watching Samar let out a small sigh and then sit opposite him, flicking through the pages between them. She looked up after another second, knowing he was watching, and broke into the tiniest of grateful smiles. Her moment of doubt had only been fleeting, but that was more than unsettling enough… But Aram had picked it, and he had reassured her in an instant. Samar’s smile widened a little more with every second they sat there, quietly watching one another, and Aram couldn’t help but feel relieved as she rolled her eyes again, shaking her head at her own silliness.  

There it was. That smile.  

There was nobody else on earth who could smile like that and make him feel the way he did. 


	31. Drabble Prompts 38 & 40 -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/174173895936/ok-ok-i-narrowed-it-down-to-12-it-was-hard), Drabble Prompts list [here](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/174130374481/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you).
> 
> Prompt 38: “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” and Prompt 40: “Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?” (Written with non timeline specific, established Saram)

Samar couldn’t help but shake her head in mild exasperation. She had just said jokingly to Aram the night before that it had been a while since something exciting had happened, but suffice to say  _this_  was not what she had meant.  

Right in the middle of the war room, mid-case discussion, in front of the entire team and just about everyone else who worked in the building, Aram had fainted. One minute he had been eagerly explaining some elaborate, technical function he had used to zero in on their latest suspect, and the next second his eyes had rolled back into his head, his legs had buckled out from under him, and he had begun the rapid descent to the hard, cement floor. Thankfully, Samar had been close enough to catch him before his head cracked against the ground.

In the scheme of things, fainting wasn’t that big a deal. It certainly wasn’t as if he was dying. But though Aram had mentioned a brief dizzy spell earlier in the day, he had been fine after that and they had no idea what might have caused the momentary loss of consciousness… And so the on-site medic had ordered him off to the ER for a once over, just to be on the safe side.  

Liz and Ressler had moved on to the suspect in question –given that the case was time-sensitive- and as soon as Samar had wrapped up her interview with a witness, she made her own way to the hospital, where Aram was waiting.  

She hurried along the hospital corridor, through the ER, and towards the bay where he was being treated. She was a little worried, sure. After all, she  _lived_  with Aram and couldn’t for the life of her figure out why he would have collapsed out of nowhere, but she wasn’t panicking. Samar’s brow furrowed with a small frown and she kept her pace quick, but as she reached the curtain shielding Aram’s bay from the rest of the world, she remained relatively calm.

‘Hey,’ she called softly through the faded, green curtain, 'you alive?’ Samar peeked her head through the gap; Aram sat up in his hospital bed, with a distinctly unimpressed expression on his face now that he was conscious again. His usual suit was gone, replaced now with a hospital robe, and Samar could see a number of different wires poking through the edges, connecting Aram to the monitor beside him.    
'Yeah, I’m fine,’ he sighed, 'but apparently I’m old.’ Aram’s expression morphed into a scowl for a split second, and he gestured at the monitor. 'Just because I turned 40, now they have to do all the extra checks on my heart to cover their bases in case I have a heart attack.’ Samar forced herself to stifle the smirk fighting to be free on her face. Just as expected, Aram was fine, but simply disgruntled at having to be poked and prodded for the better half of the afternoon.

The blow to his ego, as mild as it was, did little to help either when he was already feeling sorry for himself after fainting.

Samar took a few steps further into the room, dotting a quick kiss to his forehead. Aram’s lip twitched in response and he rested one arm around her back, but the disgruntlement remained clear on his face.  
'Did they at least figure out why you fainted?’ Samar asked.    
'It seems I was so wrapped up in the case, I forgot to eat anything today,’ he murmured back. A touch of sheepishness flashed across Aram’s face; 'my blood sugar dropped too low, so I passed out.’ For a second, he avoided Samar’s gaze. Saying he was wrapped up in the case was an understatement; he had spent half the night trying to follow their suspect’s digital trail despite her repeated reminders to come to bed, and by the time the morning rolled around again he had been so eager to follow up on what he had found, he had skipped breakfast just to get to work quicker. Samar gave a slow, exasperated shake of her head; she was sure he had eaten lunch when she had reminded him about that over the phone from the field too, but apparently he hadn’t done that either.  

Thankfully, the hospital staff had already set a tray of food on the rolling table in front of him and ordered him to eat it, and Aram had done exactly as instructed.  

Now all Samar had to do coax the smile back onto his face, and all would be right with the world again.  

She sat with Aram while they waited for the staff to finish up his discharge paperwork to send him home, all the while gently needling him with all the quips that usually prompted a smile… But that disgruntled expression remained firmly plastered across Aram’s face. He was exhausted after the long night and the two long days either side, and Aram never did handle being tired overly well, though this was still easily the most difficult it had ever been to make him smile. Samar furrowed her brow in thought as the nurses returned and pulled all the sticky attachments from the monitor off Aram’s chest. The paperwork was done and he was clear to go. All he had to do now was change back out of his robe and into his normal clothes, and so they left him to it. With that faded, green curtain wound all the way around the bay once again, Aram pushed himself off the hospital bed, reaching for his folded up suit in the chair next to Samar. She handed him his shirt first, still wondering what tactic to try next; either way, she needed to step up her game.

'When I said we needed some excitement, this was not what I meant,’ she mused, turning his trousers back out the right way while Aram pulled on his shirt sleeve by sleeve. He glanced back to her, shooting Samar a look of confusion.  
'Huh?’ The corners of Samar’s lips quirked up.  
'You fainted… Straight into my arms,’ she said drolly, 'you know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.’ Aram blinked. It took him a second of staring blankly at the smirk on her face before the memory of the previous night’s conversation clicked in his brain.    
'Oh, I know,’ he flatly began to reply. Still doing up the last couple of buttons, Aram held Samar’s gaze; 'but I thought it would make a nice change from taking my shirt off.’ His eyes crinkled with a flash of mischief so quickly that then, suddenly, it was Samar’s turn to do a double take; 'if I do that every time it’ll get boring, and we can’t have that.’

She grinned. Her tactic was working. His bruised ego had him being stubborn, but no matter how tired Aram was or how hard he tried, he could never stay cranky for too long.

Samar handed over his trousers, then grabbed Aram’s backpack as he pulled them on. She stood from the chair, slipping the backpack over one shoulder, and her free arm around his back when he was ready. At last, as they began to move from the bay and down the corridor towards the exit, Aram’s shoulders relaxed and he wrapped his arm around her in kind. Samar eyed him for a second, watching him still struggling to stop his lips from twitching.  

'Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?’ She teased. That did it. In all of a nanosecond, the toothy grin stretched wide from ear to ear.  
'Sorry.’ Aram bowed his head, pressing a sheepish, apologetic kiss to her cheek. Samar shook her head, rolling her eyes as she quietly chuckled her response;  
'Just don’t turn into a grumpy, old man permanently, ok?’


	32. Drabble Prompt 27 -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/174175260641/can-you-do-n-27-for-saram-please), Drabble Prompts list [here](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/174130374481/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you).
> 
> Prompt 27: “I'm pregnant” (Written with non timeline specific, established Saram)

For a moment, how they got to this point seemed to flash before Samar’s eyes in some kind of a blur. Some blacklister was trying to kill some other blacklister, so they had scored themselves an invite to the first blacklister’s daughter’s wedding all in the name of extra drama, and well… The race was on. The complicated web of three separate mob families all threatening each other made it just about impossible to figure out who was going to target whom next, and how. Nobody would talk. No matter how many questions Liz, Ressler, Samar, and even Reddington himself had asked the various members of all three families, the only information they could wrangle out of anyone was that someone was definitely going to be killed at the wedding.

It came down to the wire.  

With time running out to figure it all out, Reddington had pulled invites for all of them out of his trademark fedora at the last minute, in the hope of stopping it at the last minute.

Mind you, Liz and Cooper still couldn’t figure out what Reddington’s end game was and why he wanted to prevent just one of many a murder in the ongoing, simmering mob family war, but there they all were anyway. Their cover identities were those of Red’s associates, sent in his place to the festivities to pay his respects to the happy couple on his behalf while he was traveling. Ressler and Liz had slipped away from the crowd, searching for clues or anyone else acting shifty on the outside, but Samar and Aram remained stuck in the mass of well over two hundred people.

At that point, that was the last place they wanted to be.

At that point, the only further information they had received over the comms from Cooper was that one of the bottles of wine being served up at the final toast, had been poisoned, but they didn’t know which… And the final toast was just seconds from starting.  

Liz and Ressler had moved on to the kitchen, desperately racing to figure out which bottle had been tampered with.  

‘Everyone drink up,’ came the booming voice of the father of the bride as he finished his speech. Samar’s heart thumped in her chest, watching everyone’s raised glasses move steadily further and further to their lips. It would have been so much simply just to yell out and stop everybody from drinking anything, but they couldn’t do that without revealing who they were, and Reddington had been adamant that they couldn’t do that without compromising his business dealings.    
'Ressler, we need to know which bottle it was,’ Aram’s voice echoed through the comms in Samar’s ear, despite the fact that he was standing right next to her. His voice was as desperately urgent as it was quiet so as not to arouse the attention of the guests around them –the fact that the killer had still managed to evade them, that any minute now someone would be taking the most lethal of sips and that there was nothing they could do to stop it, had the entire team on edge.    
'I’m still working on it,’ Ressler’s voice hissed back, 'hang on.’ The breath caught in Samar’s throat. They couldn’t hang on any longer. Her and Aram’s own glasses were still clutched in their hands, both of them hesitant to take a sip in case theirs too, had been filled from the tampered bottle, and it was about to blow their cover.  

'You’re not drinking?’ Came another curious voice from behind them. Samar swivelled on the spot, her heart rate quickening further still at the sight of the best man standing there, watching them with one eyebrow raised in suspicion. 'You can’t not toast the bride and groom on their special day,’ he went on. The tone was low and dangerous, the threat of his words veiled all too thinly, 'it’s considered an insult.’ Samar hesitated, hyper aware of Aram instantly tensing beside her as well. The nanosecond of thinking fast to come up with  _any_  possible excuse felt like hours. Every beat of her heart felt as if it was all going in slow motion.

She took the half step closer to the best man, gesturing quickly as if needing to speak quietly in his ear, but her attention remained laser focused on the all too familiarly shaped bulge at his hip, barely covered by his suit jacket.

'I’m pregnant,’ she murmured to him, pulling the most anxiously apologetic face she could muster, and trying to ignore Aram suddenly spluttering behind her in surprise, 'we thought we’d just lift our glasses to the lovely couple, but not drink from them… But, uh, it’s still early days and we weren’t telling anyone, so if you could just…’ Samar trailed off, making the deliberate show raising one finger in a ssssh-ing gesture and then panning an uneasy expression around the room. In an instant, the expression on the best man’s face morphed into one of realisation and understanding.

Mob families, as criminal as they were, had family loyalty in spades. The notion of protecting one’s unborn child was one that Samar doubted they would ever question.

'Of course,’ the best man quickly whispered back. He reached for the serving table behind him, plucking a sealed bottle of water from a whole pyramid of them, and pushing it discreetly into Samar’s hand. The swap of wine glass for water bottle between trained Mossad agent and lifelong criminal, was seamless, and Aram couldn’t help but let out a deep breath of relief. He leaned in, one hand rubbing protective circles against the small of Samar’s back, while his other hand held out his own glass, gesturing as if wanting to swap his as well.    
'And uh,’ he began, at the best man’s questioning eyebrow, 'I’m being supportive.’ He shot Samar an attempt at a reassuring smile. 'It’s no fun being the only one who can’t drink on a day like this. Right, honey?’

The best man broke into a grin, clapping Aram on the shoulder as he handed over a second bottle of water.

'Not at all,’ he chuckled. He shot Samar a wink, before turning back to Aram and raising one hand to jokingly cover his words; 'my wife wouldn’t let me drink before any of our three kids were born either.’ Samar gave a good-natured eyeroll, both of them then waving appreciatively as the best man was swept back into the crowd. She waited a moment longer for the two of them to be clear of his view, before the fake smile vanished from her face in an instant. Just like that, the steely-eyed, on the clock demeanours returned, and with arms around each other’s backs they began to stroll around the room with the rest of the now mingling crowd, keeping their eyes peeled for anyone showing signs of being about to keel over.  

'Just do me a favour,’ Aram murmured to her, as they rounded the room, 'if you’re ever really pregnant-’ Aram cleared his throat, those words sticking there uncomfortably ’-don’t let me find out over the comms as you whisper it to someone else three feet away from me?’ Samar quirked up a single, wry eyebrow, but kept her gaze focused firmly on the crowd.    
'Sorry,’ she muttered drolly back, 'next time I’ll make it six feet for better effect.’ She couldn’t help but smirk for a split second as she noted Aram shaking his head in exasperation, but Samar quickly steeled herself again; 'now, let’s see if we can still stop this murder happening tonight.'  


	33. Drabble Prompts 13 & 22 -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/174199603856/drabble-prompts-13-22-saram), Drabble Prompts list [here](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/174130374481/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you).
> 
> Prompt 13: “Kiss me.” and Prompt 22: “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” (Written with non timeline specific, established early Saram)

It had been a long day. One of many, really, all in a row during a particularly long case. But at last, it was over and they could finally go home to rest and catch their breaths, ready to start all over again the next day. Aram was still only just pushing open the front door of his apartment, but already Samar was leaning into his shoulder from just behind him. They were both exhausted, and in desperate need of a quiet night, a quick but hearty meal, a shower and a change of clothes, and the time to simply curl up together after what felt like days were they had barely been able to muster little more than the occasional kiss on the cheek.  

The door fell closed behind them as they strode wearily inside. Samar somehow ended up just ahead of him in the hallway after he had paused just long enough to drop his keys on the table, and Aram couldn’t help but be struck by how at ease she was in his home. They had been together long enough, and friends for even longer still; Samar had been comfortable moving about his apartment for a long time now, but still… It made Aram smile to see her move about as if she wasn’t a guest but rather, as if his home was practically hers as well. She slipped off her boots and parked them beside his. She ambled into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, from which she took a few sips before setting it back on the counter and moving onwards again. She pulled her jacket off while still walking, headed straight for his bedroom to change into something more comfortable while he followed along, knowing that she had no need of the change of clothes in her work bag, because there were already plenty of her things scattered around his apartment and folded neatly into the laundry pile with his own.  

She pulled her shirt off over her head and moved onto her skinny jeans. As much as she loved them, at the end of the day Aram knew she loved pulling them off even more. He too, began to tiredly pull apart his work ensemble, first loosening the tie from his neck and then going from there. Neither of them were fazed at all any more by the idea of changing in front of one another. Now they ambled back and forth across the room, brushing gently past each other as they moved, throwing the day’s clothes into the hamper or plucking fresh ones from the wardrobe. It all just felt… So deliriously and blissfully normal.  

Aram wished he could go back in time and tell his shy, college-aged self that all was not lost… That in the end, he fell in love with the most amazing woman in the world and even more amazingly, she loved him back. In the meantime though, and considering that time travel still wasn’t yet possible, Aram settled for simply watching her almost without even realising it, a soft smile lighting up his face. It was moments like this that he loved the most; the most casual, seemingly insignificant moments that in reality showed just how far they had come. There was no need for grand gestures or serious, milestone conversations. They were relaxed, off the clock, and utterly content in each other’s quiet company, and he was  _captivated._

Samar turned on the spot, catching Aram’s eye for a moment before he quickly bowed his head, trying to appear as if he wasn’t looking. He hated the idea of potentially leering at her in such moments, but he also couldn’t shake the feeling of that overwhelming bliss or the fact that no matter how many days together passed, he could never get over just how beautiful she really was.  

Samar’s lips twitched with a small grin of amusement. It seemed that Aram would never grasp the notion that unlike strangers in the street or drunken idiots in bars,  _he_  was allowed to look at her like that –and when he did, she knew he thought of her as something far more than just her looks. Nonetheless, he took the idea of treating her in a gentleman-like fashion with the utmost seriousness… And that was just one more thing on the ever growing list of thing she loved about him.  

She dug through the pile of clean laundry on the chair beside her for a moment, picking out one of Aram’s old shirts and quickly pulling it over her head. The soft, worn fabric seemed to envelope her slim frame, and Samar closed her eyes for a moment, savouring the faint smell of Aram that lingered within it. He lowered himself to the edge of the bed, reaching down to pull on a fresh pair of socks to guard against the early chill of the season, but Samar had other ideas. She strode towards him, settling herself on his knees and slipping her arms over his shoulders, joining her hands behind his head. Samar pulled Aram in close as his arms wound around her in kind, and she rested her forehead softly against his. She could feel his heartbeat quicken at her touch, and the way his cheeks and their soft stubble moved against hers as he smiled. Samar allowed her eyes to fall softly closed.  

‘Kiss me,’ she whispered to him.    
'Ok,’ Aram murmured back. He did exactly as instructed, his lips easily and gladly finding their way to hers and pressing a slow, soft kiss there, before breaking apart again. 'Why?’ Samar opened her eyes again, grinning at the way Aram’s seemed to crinkle with contentment, but she shrugged nonchalantly.    
'Just because,’ she mused quietly. Her grin twitched with a wry amusement; 'and I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.’ Aram bowed his head again, this time with a touch of sheepishness.    
'Sorry,’ he chuckled.    
'Don’t be,’ Samar said softly. She dotted another quick kiss to his cheek before pulling back again, waggling her brow in that teasing way that always drove him wild; 'you should see the way I look at you when I  _know_  you don’t notice.’


	34. Drabble Prompts 4 & 6 -Saram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr post [_here_](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/174228907381/n-4-n-6-please), Drabble Prompts list [here](http://whimsyandsomething.tumblr.com/post/174130374481/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you).
> 
> Prompt 4: “Do you…Well…I mean…I could give you a massage?” and Prompt 6: “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” (Written with non timeline specific, established Saram)

Aram pushed the front door open. Another long work day over, and he was all too glad to be home again. He took a few steps inside, leaving the door to fall softly closed behind him; somewhere inside, Samar was waiting. She had been in the field, taking down their latest blacklister with Liz and Ressler when their case had been wrapped up, but between the Post Office and the crime scene being on opposite sides of DC, and it only being necessary for two of them to escort the man back to lock up, it made no sense for Samar to go all the way back with them, only to turn around and go straight home again… And so she had made the journey to Aram’s place alone from the scene, knowing he would be on his way from the Post Office right behind her.  

She had her own keys and she could let herself in more than easily enough, but as Aram stepped further and further into his apartment, it all seemed far too quiet.  

Aram glanced around the living room; the light was on and there was a half-finished glass of water on the counter, but Samar was nowhere in sight. He furrowed his brow, continuing on his way through the space, until he poked his head around the bedroom door.  

A soft smile lit his face. There she was; tangled in the sheets, sound asleep as if she had only intended to lie down for a moment, but the long day at work had got the better of her.  

Aram crept across the room, quietly so as not to wake her. He leaned in, one hand gently sweeping the loose strands of hair that had fallen free from her pony tail back off her face. He reached for the edge of the sheet, pulling it up a little higher to better cover her bare shoulders, then pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.  

He was tired after the long day, but the three field agents of the team were exhausted. Their blacklister had them running in circles all around DC for the better part of three days with almost no time for rest, to the point that Aram had barely seen much of them at all since the case had started. It came as no surprise to him at all that now the case was over, Samar had fallen asleep almost as soon as her head had hit the pillow.  

She began to stir as he lingered there, her eyes flickering slowly open until they landed on his, and Samar broke into a sleepy smile.  

‘Hi,’ she mumbled –half into the pillow. Aram grinned, kissing her gladly when she reached for his cheek, trying to pull him closer.    
'Hey,’ he whispered back. Aram paused for a split second, his grin widening with amusement; 'not that I’m complaining, but is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?’ For all Samar’s sleepiness, still she managed to shoot him her usual, flirtatious grin.  
'Aside from the obvious?’ She asked drolly.  
'Aside from the obvious,’ Aram chuckled back. Samar let out a sigh, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation.  
'I was tired, so I thought I’d take a nap while I waited for you,’ she mused, 'then I got warm, so I started peeling off layers. And now-’ Samar waved one hand in a sweeping gesture across her sheet-tangled form ’-here we are.’ Aram stifled another soft chuckle; her other hand still clung to the chest of his shirt, and he got the hint. He rounded the bed, kicking off his shoes and then crawling in beside her. One arm wrapped around her and she shuffled back against him, allowing his other arm to wrap around her as well. Samar sank into him gladly as Aram then buried his face in her hair, closing her eyes but letting out a groan as she moved.

'What?’ He asked quietly. The soft breath of his words tickled her cheek as he spoke.  
'All my muscles hurt,’ Samar grumbled back, 'every time I move.’ Aram pressed another slow kiss to her cheek; that her muscles hurt didn’t exactly surprise him either. One of their blacklister’s many obstacles had been to blow up one of his decoy hideouts, just as Samar and the rest of the team had arrived on scene. The explosion had thrown them all to some extent, but while Liz had managed to partly duck for cover and Ressler had been further back, backing up SWAT, Samar had been completely unshielded and the sheer force of the blast had thrown her back hard against the ground. Keeping moving through the rest of the case had helped some, but now that she was home and still, all of her muscles were starting to seize up. Aram ran his hands up and down her waist, grimacing as he gently pressed his thumbs in a circular motion against her back; in an instant, he could feel the tension in her muscles, and Samar let out another groan in response.  

'Do you… Well,’ Aram began. He bit his lip, stuck on how to say exactly what he wanted to say; 'I mean… I could give you a massage, if that would help?’ Samar winced as she turned her head, but continued rolling to face him anyway. Her eyes crinkled with that flirtatious mischief again; Aram’s offer was meant in a perfectly innocent and genuine fashion, but she was never going to pass up the opportunity to tease him. She tilted her head, her lips searching for his against the pillow and pressing a slow, deep kiss there as she quietly replied;  
'It might.’


End file.
